


Ghost

by Trinket2018



Series: The Unspoken Directive [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Technology, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, First Time, M/M, Mission Fic, Past Child Abuse, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 01:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13625721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinket2018/pseuds/Trinket2018
Summary: A mysterious artifact and a mysterious new officer at the SGC: which will cause more havoc? After hints dropped in ‘Trio’, meet Daniel’s childhood nightmare.





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the ‘Unspoken Directive’. (Sequel to ‘Trio’, continued in ‘Hero’.) I mess with Daniel’s already trauma-ridden childhood. Daniel is stripped, battered, bruised, bleeding-from-multiple-wounds, but is that a warning or a bonus? Reference to 3-7-‘Dead Man’s Switch’. DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1, the characters and universe are the property of Kawoosh Productions, Showtime/Viacom, Sony/MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and the Sci-Fi Channel. No copyright infringement is intended. I have absolutely no right to be playing with them or their universe. I just gotta. I promise to get nothing out of it but personal satisfaction. CATEGORY: Adventure, Pre-Slash. RATING: NC-17 for profanity, violence & consensual m/m. Å SPOILERS: Set early 5th Season, pre-5-21-Meridian (where Daniel dies/ascends). WARNINGS: Mention of past child abuse. (Daniel’s experiences in foster care are not canon, but can be inferred). Violence. Minor character death.

Å 

The argument started halfway back to the Gate. It wasn’t so much that anything was wrong, as that three members of SG1 were laboring under various degrees and sources of strain, and two of those felt no incentive to try and hide it.

The fourth seemingly impervious member of the team thought longingly of the quiet of kel-no-reem, and was more than happy to take point, just to put the rest of them behind him.

“You were the one who nagged us into coming on this mission, Daniel,” Jack accused.

“I do not nag.”

“Whined then.”

“And I do not whine!”

“Then you *insisted* on coming on this stupid mission until none of us could stand the sight of you, and anyone with the authority to put their foot down, who, God knows, should have known better, caved severely. I wouldn’t mind so much if this little jaunt had been worth the effort.”

At this, even the normally well-behaved Major Carter felt moved to protest. “We don’t know that yet, sir!”

“Your buddy Korra handed us a pig in a poke, Major. Some hot new gadget the Goa’uld found, and he doesn’t know what it does or how it works? By the way, are you sure you’ve got that thing contained?”

What she had actually done was wrap the small innocuous-looking sphere, about the size of a grapefruit, in her jacket. Since it held absolutely no trace of naquadah, no observable moving parts, made no noises, emitted no radiation or energy signature of any kind and possessed no blinking lights, Sam figured the jacket should be good enough. At least until they got it back to Earth for tests. 

“Yes, sir. Fully contained sir,” she gritted out.

“I just don’t trust that guy,” Jack complained, yet again.

“But sir—“ Carter rushed to the defense of the Tok’ra agent, only to face Jack’s imperious hand.

“Don’t say it, Carter. I know. He’s an old buddy of Jolinar, he’s our ally, he’s Tok’ra… and if they had the first clue what that doohicky really is, they wouldn’t have given it to us.” And what really got Jack’s goat was that Carter’s normally dependable and accurate radar for trouble always shut down under certain circumstances. Like, for instance, when the Tok’ra were involved, or when she had a new toy to play with. Both of which were now in force. Not a situation Jack cared for. At all.

And what was worse, Daniel, who should have stayed in bed at least another week to get over the gun shot he had taken to the leg, had – okay – *insisted* on coming with the team on a mission that had unexpectedly involved a five mile hike to meet the Tok’ra agent’s ship. Now, of course, he was limping so badly they all wondered if he could make it back to the Gate under his own steam. The fallout if Jack or Teal’c ended up having to carry the archeologist the last mile… didn’t bear thinking about.

“Damn it, Daniel, there was no reason for you to come on this mission.”

Daniel glared at Jack, failed to note a fallen branch in his way, and nearly tripped, putting an added strain on his right leg. He let out a yell, quickly strangled off, and winced, stopping in his tracks while his chest heaved and his eyes closed tight on the pain. Carter immediately went to his side.

“You okay, Daniel?”

“So help me, Sam,” Daniel gritted out, “if you ask me that one more time, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Which succeeded in stopping the rest of the team, and turning them to stare at him. It was a mild enough remark by military standards, but not by Dr. Jackson’s. Daniel had been known to indulge in screaming matches with Jack, dress down civilian subordinates and military personnel from General Hammond on down, and even toss a sarcastic remark at Teal’c. But never, ever, at Sam. Unless under the influence of alcohol, alien drugs or alien…

With wary malevolence, Jack said what was on all their minds, “Carter, are you *sure* that thing is contained?”

Stricken, Sam lifted the flap of her jacket and peered at the small, unmarked mirror-surfaced ball. She poked it with a finger. “Uh… as far as I can tell, sir… it’s inactive.”

“All right, that’s it then. Daniel, once we get through the Gate, you are grounded for one more week. *And* you go back on the crutches. No arguments, because I don’t want to hear them.”

Since Daniel had already come to the same conclusion as Jack, that his wounded leg was not yet ready to take a ten mile trek, he made no effort to disagree. He glanced guiltily at Sam, took a deep, steadying breath, and said, “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that, Sam. I guess the leg really is a little sore.”

Since Dr. Daniel Jackson was the only man Carter had ever known who could voluntarily offer a sincere apology without orders or coercion, Sam was prepared to cut him any amount of slack. But she’d bite her tongue off before she made any more sympathetic noises about his leg, either.

“That’s okay, Daniel. I understand.”

Confession being good for the soul, Daniel went on, “Sorry guys. Jack, you’re right. I shouldn’t have come. It’s just that I was bored out of my skull sitting in my office back at the base. That’s really why I wanted to come with you today. But I didn’t expect it to turn into a ten mile endurance test.”

“Not your fault, Daniel,” Jack replied gruffly, willing to be magnanimous in victory. “Who knew our contact would park a good five miles from the Gate?”

Which comment set Carter’s teeth on edge.

Nobody said anything at all the last mile back to the Stargate. They were all too relieved to be within sight of home. Which put them all in a much better frame of mind as Daniel dialed Earth. That was lucky, because as soon as they arrived on the Earth-side ramp, an airman told them they were to attend a meeting in General Hammond’s office as soon as they were vetted through the Infirmary, then cleaned up. He said the new Ex-O had been assigned as General Hammond’s administrative second in command of the SGC. Since this appointment had been in the offing for weeks, and much gossip had been flying about who it would be, civilian Dr. Daniel Jackson and Jaffa Teal’c had already been informed that Ex-O meant Executive Officer. 

“About time we got one,” Colonel Jack O’Neill observed, not for the first time, or even the tenth. “There’s enough paperwork generated by this place to keep a platoon busy.”

“And God knows, you won’t do it,” Daniel observed with a grin that took the sting out of the comment. Jack struggled, very hard, not to take it personally. The grin, not the comment. If he took even one of Daniel’s smiles personally, it might lead to taking other things even more personally, and he was going to be in big, big trouble. 

Now that he had fessed up to his feelings for his SG1 team-mate (to himself, at least), he was ready – Jesus, more than ready – to act on them. Jack was a see-the-mountain-take-the-mountain kind of guy. He was free, Daniel was free, they were both over twenty one, currently in their right minds and free of alien influences. And although there might be a certain amount of difficulty with the military establishment, Jack couldn’t see that as a great obstacle. A good portion of his SGC comrades seemed to be well aware of the chemistry brewing between he and Daniel, and either assumed they were already making out like mink, or were as mystified as he why they weren’t. And if he was ready to thumb his nose at regulations, he couldn’t see why Daniel, civilian down to his toes – his adorable, suckable civilian toes – should have a problem. 

But Daniel did have a problem. Jack wasn’t sure what it was, but every time he nerved himself to make his move, Daniel shut him down. It had happened so consistently over the past couple of weeks that Jack was certain the object of his desire knew exactly what was on his mind. 

It wasn’t that Daniel was not attracted. Jack had surprised enough soul-full looks from his civilian consultant to tell him all he needed to know. But all he could do at this point was wait Daniel out. That was going to be tough. Jack was not a patient man. He had already waited for Daniel’s leg-wound to heal, and considered he had born up nobly while Daniel hobbled around, first on the crutches, then on a cane, way too slow to run… But this morning, Doc Fraiser, under protest, had given Daniel a clean bill of health, and put him back in the rotation. Too bad it had to start with this mission. Jack decided he could give it maybe one more week before he forced the issue, and Daniel, against the nearest wall and demanded what the hell was holding things up. 

In the meantime, he had to let those damned smiles – shy, sizzling, flirty, mischievous, or downright provocative – go by without getting personal. 

Once the required post-mission physicals were complete, Jack caught his team before they could leave the Infirmary.

“Carter, I want the magic doohickey locked in a secure lead-lined vault before you do anything else. Now, don’t bite my head off, Daniel, but are you okay to go to this meeting? Or do you want to bag it and stick around here until ol’ Doc Fraiser can take a look at you?”

Daniel sighed. “I’ll be fine. Really. The leg is just sore, that’s all.” Since the archeologist would rather face torture than confess this to the rest of SG1, Jack was pretty sure it must be more than just sore. But Daniel was a grown man. If he could take it, that was his problem.

All four members of SG1 managed to stow gear, shower and change in record time. They collected outside Hammond’s office less than half an hour later, and in spite of a lingering limp, Daniel had even managed to snag himself a mug of coffee in the meantime. So the damn leg couldn’t be all that sore, Jack figured. Or else he had grossly underestimated the severity of Daniel’s caffeine addiction.

When they were invited into the General’s office, a tall, bald man, late rather than middle age, his uniform hat under his arm, stood from the chair that placed his back to the door, and turned to face them. He wore a Marine dress uniform, very spit-and-polish, with colonel rank insignia. There was a scar on his prominent chin that begged questions, and a cold, hard look in his steel-gray eyes that discouraged asking them.

General Hammond smiled and said, “Here they are, Colonel. My flag-ship team, SG1. Colonel O’Neill, in command of the team. Major Carter, our scientific advisor. Teal’c, a Jaffa who has dedicated himself to fighting the Goa’uld so he can free his people from slavery to their false gods. And last but not least, our expert in languages, first contact and ancient cultures, Dr.—“

Suddenly there was a loud crash. 

Daniel had dropped his mug. But it was as if it, and everyone else in that room, no longer existed.

“No. I don’t believe it. You’re dead. They said you were dead.” There was a cold, cutting edge to the usually calm and casual archeologist’s voice that suggested he would vastly prefer that to be correct.

“Hello, Danny. I wondered if you’d recognize me. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough. Not nearly. What the hell are you… No. You’re not the new Ex-O. You did not return from the dead just to get yourself assigned here.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”

“Why?”

“Danny—“

“No. Don’t bother. Why the hell didn’t you stay dead?” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

“Well,” said the stranger in resignation. “That could have gone worse.”

He was the only one left in that room who wasn’t shocked speechless. General Hammond was first to find his voice again. “I take it you already know Dr. Jackson. And he apparently knows you. Colonel, Major, Teal’c, this is Colonel Quentin Marsh. He’s just been transferred from the Pentagon, and he is indeed our new Ex-O. That’s all I wanted. You’re dismissed.”

Jack gave Sam and Teal’c the briefest gesture of the head, to indicate they should go after Daniel, but he remained. He closed the door behind them, read the wariness and suppressed anger in his commanding officer’s face, and explained, “I think I have a right to know what just went on here, sir.”

Hammond thought about it, then gestured for Jack to take the other office chair. “I have to admit, Colonel Marsh, that is a burning question in my mind, as well. I’ve seen Dr. Jackson more polite with the Goa’uld than he just was with you.”

“Hell,” Jack agreed, “he was more polite with Apophis.”

Colonel Marsh seemed to come back from a reverie. “I… used to be a foster parent, a long time ago. I had a reputation for being a disciplinarian who could straighten out problem boys. One of the kids they sent me was Danny.”

Jack had to take himself sternly in hand. He decided he did not like the way this man called Daniel “Danny”. He had stopped doing so years ago, partly because he knew Daniel hated it, but mostly because… well, he hadn’t been ready to deal with the reason he couldn’t call his friend “Danny” any more. Right now there were questions to be asked, and he couldn’t throw a punch until he got answers. 

“Daniel was a problem kid?” Jack demanded in disbelief.

“His parents had just died. He had been raised in a Muslim culture, on archeological digs in Egypt. He was finding it difficult adjusting to being an orphan in America. He ran away from two or three other homes. He wasn’t with me long, either.”

“And why not?” Hammond demanded.

“I… had problems of my own in those days. I won’t make excuses. I was abusing alcohol and prescription drugs. When I was high, I… became abusive. I beat some of the boys. I beat Danny.”

Hammond and Jack exchanged shocked glances. Did you know this? Hell no, did you? –went unvoiced between them. When the shock wore off, there would be rage, but for now, the questions kept them both cold and grim. 

“Danny reported me, and they believed him. I was arrested for child abuse. Before the case came to trial, I was… invited to join a secret black-ops group. They arranged my ‘death’ – Danny was right about that, I am supposed to be dead. They gave me a new identity and a clean slate. As you can see from my records, General, I’ve been clean and sober and had an exemplary record ever since. I bitterly regret the past. I was hoping… I could make amends.”

“In other words,” General Hammond growled out in barely-restrained fury, “you requested transfer here under false pretenses, lying about your identity and your record, and without any warning to me, or Dr. Jackson, knowing the likely outcome of a meeting between the two of you? My God, Marsh! Is Marsh your true name, by the way?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m having a difficult time understanding just what you hoped to accomplish! You don’t imagine I would let you stay, do you?”

“No sir. But when I saw Danny’s name on some of the SGC paperwork… He’s been a hard man to locate the past few years. I just want a chance to talk to him, sir. Would that be all right?”

Hammond glanced grimly at Jack. Jack shrugged.

Hammond shook his head. “Only if he’s willing to talk to you, Colonel. Seeing you suddenly like this… It must have been a hell of a shock, if nothing else! I don’t want you going near him. In fact, I order you to remain in your office until I decide what to do with you. You will have a security escort at all times to ensure you do not make any attempt to contact Dr. Jackson on your own. Right now, Colonel, I wouldn’t trust you any further than I could throw you.”

“I understand, sir. I will, of course, obey your wishes. But... would you at least ask Danny if he'll come and talk to me?"

“I’ll have to think about that. And before I make any determination, I want your real name, and your previous records on my desk before the end of today. And if I were you, I wouldn’t unpack my office. You might not be there all that long. Dismissed.”

When Marsh had left, Hammond could only shake his head. “My God, Jack. Of all the underhanded, duplicitous, nasty… I ought to kick his butt all the way back to Washington."

“Yes sir,” Jack agreed. “You should. Why don’t you?”

Hammond’s mouth thinned. “This appointment was not my choice. I’ve never met Colonel Marsh – never even heard of him before. I was hoping to have Major Davis re-assigned here. But there was a lot of pressure put on me to accede to Colonel Marsh’s transfer. To tell you the truth, I thought it was another NID attempt to infiltrate the SGC. I agreed because I thought it preferable to keep him under my eye, maybe feed him mis-information and turn the tables on those… spooks. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. But this… I never anticipated anything like this. There’s no way he could be NID, certainly. Not with a spectacular screw-up of this magnitude. But in order to appease the powers that sent him here, I’ll need more justification than a hidden agenda and a hidden past. Do you have any idea what Dr. Jackson’s reaction might be?”

“If it were me, sir, I’d already have shot Marsh dead. But… that’s me.”

Hammond nodded. “You think he might resign?”

“I think he might, yes.”

“Well, Colonel, if it’s between the two of them, we need Dr. Jackson a hell of a lot more than we need an Ex-O, no matter who’s pulling the strings.”

“Glad to hear you say so, sir. So what do we do now?”

Hammond sighed. “Talk to Dr. Jackson, I suppose, if he hasn’t already walked out. See if you can find him, and send him to see me.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, Jack… did you know about this? About Dr. Jackson’s childhood?”

“He’s never said anything about abuse. It’s not on his records. But when DJ was here, he said a few things… made me wonder. He mentioned a boy named Andy Perez who died. I know Daniel keeps in touch with an Andy Perez, who was with him in a foster home. Wanna bet which one?”

“My God, Jack. He was just eight years old when his parents died. It would take a monster to do something like that.”

“Yes sir,” Jack agreed, thinking that his beloved son Charlie had been ten when he died. If anyone, anyone, had tried to hurt his kid like that…

“That sort of thing leaves scars on a child that never heal properly. Go easy when you find him.”

“I will, General.”

Å 

A lot of unlikely, incredible and weird events had occurred under Cheyenne Mountain since the inception of the Stargate project. But nothing as shocking as what Sam Carter and Teal’c found when they went to find Dr. Daniel Jackson at his office. 

The door was shut.

Daniel’s door was never shut. In fact, most people didn’t realize there was even a door hung on those hinges.

The door was also locked.

Well, that was just down-right impossible.

Sam knocked, and called out, “Daniel? Are you in there?”

There was no answer. Sam snagged a passing airman, ordering him to go get the key to Dr. Jackson’s office.

The airman replied, “Sir, yes sir. Uh… key to what door, sir? Dr. Jackson’s office doesn’t have a—“ Then he looked at the slab of metal and blinked. “Uh… yes, sir, right away. Uh… where do I look for it?”

Sam sighed. “You might try maintenance, airman Trent. Or Sgt. Siler may have a duplicate.”

“Yes, Major.”

As it happened, Colonel O’Neill arrived before the key did. And he stared at the slab of metal too, wondering where the hell that had come from.

“Carter,” said Jack.

“Yes sir?”

“That whiz-bang Korra gave you. It’s locked up, right?”

“Yes sir. Locked up.” 

Sighing, Jack grumbled something under his breath and barked out, “Daniel. Open the door.”

“Go away, Jack.”

“Now you know that isn’t going to happen. Come on, Daniel. Open up.”

Jack gave him one more minute, then he set about picking the lock. It wasn’t hard for one of Jack O’Neill’s formidable talents. If his subordinates wanted to think it was a result of his Special Ops training, they were perfectly free to do so. But once the door was open, they were confronted by pitch darkness.

“Daniel?”

Teal’c flipped the light switch, and a quick survey revealed Daniel, sitting on the floor in the corner, arms wrapped around his knees. One hand flashed up to shield his eyes against the sudden glare, and he frowned at his visitors.

With a sigh, he got awkwardly to his feet, wincing briefly at a stitch in his right leg, and went to sit at his desk. 

“That door was locked for a reason, you know.”

Jack frowned down at him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Now go away.”

Sam asked gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Now go away.”

Jack retorted, “No. You always say you’re fine just before you fall flat on your face from blood loss.” He got himself a chair and deliberately placed it facing Daniel. Sam and Teal’c took this as a hint, lined up on the couch, so Daniel was surrounded by his friends, wherever he chose to look.

After a moment of stubborn silence, Jack said, “Colonel Marsh told me about your past… history.”

“Did he. Really.” Daniel’s voice was very cold and distant. “Did he tell you I killed him?”

Jack became aware that his jaw had dropped, and swallowed hard. “No, he missed that part. You couldn’t have done that good a job of it.”

“Apparently not.” Then his rare, quicksilver smile flashed, there and gone again. “You’re not going away, are you?”

“Ya think? Come on, Daniel. Talk to us. What’s going on here?”

“I have no idea. I thought he was dead. I used to have nightmares about him. I saw myself killing him again and again. And the scary thing wasn’t killing him, it was that he wouldn’t stay dead. He kept getting up and coming back. Over and over… Looks like he’s done it again. A lot like Apophis, actually.”

Sam and Teal’c exchanged glances. Sam was not completely in the dark, and Teal’c already knew part of this tale. 

“Then he is the one, is he not, Danieljackson?” asked Teal’c. “The man you told me about from your childhood.”

Jack had caught the interplay at once. “Oh, for crying out loud! You told Teal’c and Carter, but you wouldn’t tell me? What the hell is that, Daniel?”

“I didn’t tell Sam,” Daniel grumbled guiltily.

“I got it out of Teal’c, sir,” Carter confessed. “And I don’t know very much.”

“Well since everyone else in this room seems to be up to speed, anyone care to let me in on the big secret?” Jack demanded, feeling more than a little hurt. 

Daniel didn’t reply. 

Sam dared, “Who is Marsh?” But she looked to Jack, not Daniel.

“Marsh. Is that the name he’s using?” Daniel mused. “I knew him as Willison. But we just called him the Major.”

Jack supplied, “He was one of Daniel’s foster parents. Not a good one. He said they sent you to him because you were a problem child. Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

Daniel shook his head. “No, that was true enough.”

“Come on, Daniel. We’re all your friends here. Talk to us.”

Daniel winced. “I don’t like to think about that time. My parents were dead. Nick wandered off and left me. That whole year was a waking nightmare. It was hard, you know? Being so very much alone. I just… I don’t think anything would have made it easy, but… it didn’t have to be quite that hard, either.”

“Why were you a problem kid?”

Daniel shrugged. “I ran away from my first two or three foster homes. Graft, neglect, alcoholism… I knew what a good home felt like, you see, and I didn’t see why I should settle for anything less.”

“So they figured you needed that good old Marine drill discipline.”

Daniel nodded. “Social Services liked the way the kids in his care became quiet and well-behaved. They didn’t realize what they really became was silent and terrified.”

“He mistreated you,” Teal’c growled. It was very rare that any strong emotion spilled out of the Jaffa’s impassive demeanor – about as rare as finding Daniel’s door closed and locked. But this time, Teal’c could not seem to restrain himself.

Daniel nodded. “I wasn’t there all that long, luckily… twenty days. Twenty days, thirteen hours, eight minutes.”

“What happened, Daniel?” Sam asked, torn between wanting to know so she could offer comfort, and dreading the truth.

“The older boys told stories about kids he had beaten to death, bodies buried in the back, stuff like that. I didn’t believe them. I thought they were just trying to scare the new kid, and I was too smart to fall for that, even when I was eight. So when the others ran and hid that first night, I didn’t… Then I got smarter, and hid the same as they did when he came in. I managed to get away with that, most of the time. Until that last night. Andy Perez was sick, and I was supposed to sit with him. We didn’t hear the Major come in. He was already on his way up the stairs when we realized he was home, and then it was too late. There was no way down from the attic dormitory, except by the stairs. 

“He started on me first. Knocked me across the room. When I came to, I saw him shaking Andy by the throat. I thought he was dead for a minute. Then I… I jumped on the Major’s back and pounded as hard as I could. He dropped Andy and grabbed me. Threw me so hard I went through the wall, bounced down the stairs into the living room. He came after me, dragging Andy behind him by the ankle, like a doll. His head kept bumping on the stairs… like that line in Winnie-the-Pooh, you know? Except Pooh didn’t leave blood stains on the carpet… Freaked me out. I started yelling. The Major didn’t like that. Said I didn’t have to be so impatient. I’d get my turn. I was sure he wouldn’t stop until he killed us both. So I picked up a brass table lamp. Hit him over the head with it. Maybe he was surprised, or maybe I got lucky, or he tripped over the carpet… anyway, he fell and hit his head on the corner of the coffee table. And he lay still, a pool of blood growing under him.”

Sam tilted her head to one side and said, ”That scar on his chin?”

Daniel nodded. “That’s where he must have got it. That’s how I knew it had to be him, in Hammond’s office, even when I knew he should be dead, and it’s been thirty years... Anyway… First I was afraid I’d killed him. Then I was afraid I hadn’t. I picked up Andy and ran to the nearest police station. Andy was scared of the cops, but I figured jail was better than going back to the Major. But a cop recognized us, and the first thing he said was they should call the Major to come take us back. Which is when I handcuffed myself to the rail and swallowed the key, and started talking as fast and as loud as I could till they listened.”

“And you’ve been talking your way in and out of trouble ever since,” Jack O’Neill guessed with a smile.

“That’s about it, yes. They finally did listen. Well, Andy was bruises from one end to the other, his head was bleeding from a cut to the back of his scalp… and… well, I was a mess too. They had us both in hospital for a while. There was talk of a trial at first. Then they told me Major Willison died. Complications, they said. I figured that meant me. It felt strange, thinking I had killed a man. I wasn’t sure how I felt. According to Andy, I ought to be glad.”

“I’m with Andy,” Jack declared. 

“It was clearly a case of self-defense,” Teal’c agreed.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Sam added gently.

Daniel smiled. “I suppose so. You know, when Catherine came to me with that offer of a translation job for the military… I almost didn’t take it. It’s not like I had a lot of choice, but I thought about what it would be like, surrounded by a lot of Major Willisons… then I figured I had let him haunt me for long enough. Ghosts don’t go away if you run from them. And you know, Jack, at your most intimidating, you’re nowhere near as scary as Willison was to a scrawny little four-eyed eight-year-old dweeb.”

A thoughtful silence settled over them all. And all Jack could think was, no damn wonder. Did Daniel really see Marsh-Willison every time he looked at Jack? Another uniformed monster who could abuse children? No. That couldn’t be it. Daniel had never been afraid of him. Not from day one. It had been one of the first things about the civilian archeologist that had annoyed, frustrated, infuriated, pissed him off royally and finally, intrigued him, leading eventually to a grudging respect. But Jack knew the younger man well enough by now to tell that they weren’t getting the whole story. Not by a long shot. And somewhere in that dark, haunted look in Daniel’s eyes was the reason he could not bring himself to give Jack a chance to get closer. Well, at least now he had a clue what he was fighting, Jack reflected, feeling more hopeful than he had for a while. 

So he smiled. “You okay?”

Predictably, Daniel answered absently, “I’m fine. I suppose General Hammond is pretty angry.”

“Furious,” Jack agreed. “He wants to see you.”

Daniel sighed. “I guess I better go and apologize.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. He’s not angry with you. He’s ready to rip the arms off Marsh, though. You say the word, and that guy is so gone from here.”

Daniel blinked, re-adjusting his glasses. “Gone. He’s not staying?”

“Are you kidding?”

“I… uh… I was trying to decide what to say in my letter of resignation.”

“Well don’t bother. But… you better know. Marsh wants to speak to you.”

“Speak to me.”

“He said something about making amends. You don’t have to see him.” 

Daniel sighed. “No. Probably not.”

Jack made a noise, shaking his head. “But you’re going to, aren’t you?”

“He’s a ghost who’s been haunting me for almost my entire life. Ghosts don’t go away if you run from them.” 

Å 

Daniel stood at the door of the Ex-O’s office and took a deep breath. Then he realized how much of an audience he had accumulated. He turned to stare at them in some surprise.

“No,” he said. “You cannot come in with me.” 

“You sure you’ll be all right?” Sam asked, a worried frown on her brow.

“I’m sure. I’m a big boy now. I can tie my own shoelaces and everything.”

“But Daniel—“

The Colonel said, “You don’t have to go in there at all. You don’t owe that bastard a damned thing.”

“I’m not doing this for him. Jack… go away now. Sam, Teal’c, go with him. I’ll be okay. What do you think he’s going to do, anyway?”

“I’m just sayin’, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I think I do.”

“We will be near in case you require assistance,” said Teal’c.

“I think it would be better if you all go and wait in the commissary. I’ll meet you there. This won’t take long. If I’m not there in a couple of days, you can come look for the bodies. Okay?”

“You anticipate there will be violence?” Teal’c growled.

“No. No I don’t. That was a joke… Oh, go away.”

But they were still there when Daniel turned around, and the door suddenly opened inward, with Colonel Marsh standing on the other side. He looked over Daniel, then beyond to the small crowd behind him, and a humorless smile stretched his mouth.

“I’m glad you could come, Danny. Or is this a delegation of some kind? Tar and feathering, maybe? You thought you’d need a body-guard?”

“No,” Daniel answered, measuring the word. “They’ve been trying to talk me out of this. It didn’t work. Guys, I’ll see you later, in the commissary.”

Daniel went through the door, and shut it pointedly in their faces. 

Marsh returned to his chair behind the desk. It was a spartan office. If Marsh had any personal belongings, he hadn’t unpacked them. Perhaps he wasn’t sure enough of his tenure in the post.

“Sit down, Danny. Thank you. Thank you for coming to see me.”

Daniel fought not to squirm in his seat. But he kept a watchful eye on the older man. “I must admit, my curiosity got the best of me.”

Marsh nodded. “I remember that about you. You wonder what on Earth I might have to say to you. Why I went to such lengths – not strictly kosher – to get myself assigned here. You know, I fully expect to be thrown out on my ear. But… I had to take the chance. It was the only way I could get near you.”

Daniel remained silent. Still waiting.

Marsh smiled ruefully. “I know. I should get to the point. I… First of all, I just want to say… that I’m sorry. Deeply sorry. More sorry than I can say. For what I did to you and the other boys.”

Daniel said softly, “For which you never paid.”

“No. Unless you want to count losing my name, my reputation, my wife… my life. I was in black ops for twenty-five years because of what they held over my head. I did pay, Danny. In blood. Twenty-five years of slave labor in jungles and deserts, in every god-forsaken cess-pit in the world, doing a vile, dirty job. They only let me go five years ago, let me have this Marsh identity, because I was getting too old to be of use to them.”

Daniel nodded. “Is that all?”

Marsh got up from his chair and paced. He did not seem aware that Daniel had braced himself, hands on the arms of the guest chair, feet planted. “Jesus, Danny… You remember what it was like, don’t you? I was fine when I was sober and clean. I wasn’t a bad man then, was I? Strict, maybe, but at least I was fair. It was the drugs and alcohol that made me crazy. I took them because it hurt too damned much. But then the lines between the past and the present would blur… I’d forget where I was, who I was… I’m sorry. What more can I say? I don’t even remember what happened that night. Not really. The alcohol always made me black out.”

A few years ago, Daniel might not have found any way to understand. But he had been under the influence of alien substances himself a time or two, accidental or forced, and he knew how a man could find himself doing horrible things, unforgivable things, things he would never have done in his right mind, helpless to stop himself. So he unwillingly found the excuse of addiction resonate within him. But still… No one had forced Willison to pick up the bottle, the pills. That had been his choice. 

Daniel would not take his eyes off the man pacing like a panther behind his desk. “And now?”

Marsh sat down, weary of a sudden. “Danny, I know I deserve to pay for my crimes. I think I have paid. And I’ve straightened myself out. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since that night. Not so much as a swig of beer. And nothing stronger than aspirin. I swear it. I’ve been in therapy. I’ve done everything I can to erase the man who could attack defenseless young boys just because he could… I’ve made what restitution I can, believe me, and I’m willing to do more, anything. But that’s not really why I went to all the trouble to find you and get myself assigned here… There’s something I want to say. Thank you.”

That, finally, surprised Daniel. “Pardon me?”

“Thank you. For stopping me. If you hadn’t… I could have been a murderer. You might be dead. Thank you for stopping me before I had that on my conscience too.”

Daniel nodded, disarmed by the sincerity in the older man’s voice.

“I know you don’t trust me. I know you hate the very thought of me being here. But, Danny… I… I know I have no right to ask this of you, of all people, but… I want another chance, to prove to myself and to you that I’m not the monster you remember. That that man is gone forever. Please, Danny. I know Hammond’s waiting to talk to you, and all he needs to get rid of me is for you to tell him to do it. I’m asking, I’m begging you, Danny. Let me stay. Just for a little while.”

Daniel hesitated. “Why?”

“Because I need it. Danny, if I lose this job, I’m out of the military. Then what? What have I got to go back to? My life is over. I know, maybe I deserve that. God knows… But I’m begging you. I need a second chance to prove I’ve changed. Please, Danny.”

Daniel would not answer. Could not. He got up and opened the door, to fall straight into an ambush of his SG1 companions, who had not left to await him in the commissary after all. Marsh, still standing erect behind his desk with his arms folded behind his back, noted this bodyguard with a twisted smile before the door closed.

“Tell me he did not get to you,” Jack demanded, seeing Daniel’s face.

“What, Jack, you don’t believe everyone deserves a second chance?”

“Not everyone, no. Not him.”

“Why not him?”

“I don’t believe this. You’re going to walk into Hammond’s office and plead his case, aren’t you? Hello, Earth to Daniel. He tossed an eight-year-old through a wall, almost killed your friend Andy? He’s scum, Daniel. You owe him squat. Less than squat.”

Daniel had to detour around the three of them to get back to the corridor, headed for Hammond’s office. But only Jack continued to argue. 

Teal’c had nothing to say in the face of Daniel’s decision. He, too, had committed atrocities in his time. Better or worse than Marsh? Who could say? But he knew better than to try and change Daniel from the man he was. And Daniel Jackson, he knew well, would never refuse anyone a second chance if they sincerely asked for one, no matter what their crimes. 

As for Sam, she was more concerned with the emotional toll this would take on her friend, no matter what he did. Because toll there would be.

“You can’t come in with me this time, either,” Daniel warned them as he stepped up to knock on Hammond’s door. 

“Don’t do this, Daniel,” Jack asked once more, quietly.

Daniel sighed, unwilling to look back at his friend. “I don’t think I have much choice in the matter. Not if I want to go on living with myself. It’ll be all right. Really. I can handle this.”

“So help me, Daniel, if you say you’re ‘fine’…”

Daniel smiled, and knocked.

“Come.” General Hammond turned troubled eyes on the younger man. “Take a seat, son. I want you to know that I had no idea about any of this. If I had—“

“I know, General. It’s okay. Really.”

“I don’t know how the hell it can be. But I’m writing up Marsh’s transfer papers right now.”

“Sir… I was hoping I could talk you out of that.” Daniel took off his glasses and unconsciously began polishing them between his fingers, his brow pursed in that anxious expression, all too familiar to those who knew him well, that put three vertical lines over the bridge of his nose. 

”What did you say, Doctor?”

“I went to talk to him, sir. He asked for a second chance. He told me he’s straightened himself out, tried to make restitution for what he did thirty years ago. I believe him. I think he deserves that chance.”

“Well I do not! I want him out of my facility! Quite apart from these revelations about his past… My God, what he did to you, a child in his care… And quite apart from that, how the hell am I supposed to place any trust whatsoever in an Ex-O who got himself assigned to me under false pretenses?”

“He probably didn’t see any other way.”

“Well neither do I. I thought I had got over the worst when I kicked Samuels loose… But Marsh makes my skin crawl. Why the hell you don’t feel the same way… I want him out of here. Can you give me even one reason not to can his ass back to Washington within the next five minutes?”

“Sir… everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone.”

“Oh hell,” swore General George Hammond, getting up and pacing the room, as if it would help him swallow down the angry bile in his gorge and the frustration of knowing that, once again, he was going to lose an argument with Dr. Jackson. 

Did other generals face these problems, he wondered? Were they obeyed, most of the time, by un-questioning and subordinate subordinates, whose only reply to an order was “How high, sir”? Instead, he was beset by a Colonel who regularly defied regulations; the sweetest and most obedient Major any General could ever command, if only he could just be sure she wouldn’t one day blow up the planet by accident; an alien warrior whose very life re-defined the word honor, but who also harbored one of the most formidable enemies Earth ever faced in his belly; and a civilian consultant who could always be depended upon to make even the most obvious straight-up military decision murky with ethical considerations. 

“All right. I’ll place him on probation, for two weeks. And I won’t be turning my back on him. I suggest you don’t either, son. After that… we’ll have to see. That’s all I can promise.”

Daniel sighed. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. But he had made his decision, and he would get his second chance, too. To try and get over the legacy of violence that had haunted him for so much of his life. “Thank you, sir.” 

“I’m not certain thanks are in order, Dr. Jackson. None of this past history shows up on your records. I’d like an explanation for that.”

“The official police incident report was sealed because I was a minor. A complaint of child abuse was made by Social Services, but no charges were laid against the Major because he was supposed to be dead. Another complaint was made against me, for manslaughter, by the Major’s commanding officer, but those charges were dropped too.”

“I should hope so! I’ll need that report. It ought to be with our security records.”

Daniel nodded. “Yes, of course. You can probably get a copy from the New York Police Department, 52nd Precinct. The case was never closed.”

“Why not?”

“There were some boys, assigned to Major Willison, who went missing. Runaways that he never reported, for obvious reasons. Three of them, I think. I don’t know if they were ever found.”

Å 

New Ex-O’s and personal revelations aside, routine demanded a mission de-briefing, reports be written on even so disappointing a mission as this one, and business as usual at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Dr. Jackson was told to report to the infirmary to have his leg checked out, and, on the somewhat strongly worded and acerbic advice from the base CMO, the General endorsed Colonel O’Neill’s order, grounding Daniel for another week. Major Carter was given the responsibility of studying the mysterious piece of alien technology the Tok’ra agent Korra had passed along. A Tok’ra/Tau’ri summit was scheduled in a week’s time, and no doubt questions would be asked about this latest piece of shared information. 

Dr. Janet Fraiser took a long look at Daniel’s leg, but could find no new lesions in the wound, and no sign of infection. 

“Just doing too much too soon again, Daniel. Try to keep off it as much as possible for a few days, though. Need anything for the pain?”

“I’ve got the aspirin. That’s enough.”

“Don’t suppose Sam’s new toy could help?”

Daniel blinked. “Uh… I’d rather stick to aspirin, thank you.”

Janet smiled. “Somehow, I don’t blame you. Now. Want to talk about anything else? Anything at all?”

The young man sighed. “Like, for instance, my childhood traumas? No thank you. I had all the therapy I could stand when I was a kid.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” Janet assured him, her voice gentle and serious, “I’m right here.”

“I know. Thank you. Oh. Do you still have those crutches around? I hate to admit Jack’s right, for once, but they do help.”

“They’re over here. If you find the aspirin isn’t enough let me know. We don’t have to upgrade to stronger drugs, a simple heat pack will probably do just as well. Just try to stay off the leg as much as you can.”

“I will. Promise. Okay if I go get lunch first?”

“Oh go on and get out of my infirmary. Make room for sick people.”

By the time Daniel hobbled into the commissary on his crutches, most of the base was seated and eating. Jack, Sam and Teal’c occupied their usual table, with his customary seat left for him. At the other side of the room, however, sat Colonel Marsh. He was alone at his table, with a wide empty space around him. 

Daniel shook his head. The airman at the counter came forward with a coffee, hot and black, aimed toward SG1. But Daniel snagged him on his way, and detoured to Marsh’s table.

Marsh looked up, in some surprise, as Daniel sat down.

“Mind if I ask about the crutches and the limp?” Marsh began neutrally, continuing to eat normally, and ignore the hostile stares and almost total silence in the rest of the commissary.

“I was shot. Jack says I should learn to duck.”

Marsh smiled wanly. “Doesn’t know you very well, does he?”

Daniel drank his coffee. He couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, and wasn’t even sure why he was making the effort. 

“It seems our history is common knowledge,” Marsh attempted another stab at conversation.

“This is a top secret military installation. Of course everyone knows. They must really dislike you, though. No one warned you about the macaroni and cheese.”

Colonel Marsh looked down at his plate. ”I thought this was creamed chicken.”

“That’s what their macaroni and cheese tastes like. Which is why I stick to the coffee. The jello is usually safe enough.”

“It was kind of you to sit here and talk to me. But why are you bothering? Don’t you hate my guts?”

“If you’re asking if we’ll ever be friends… I don’t think so. I hope you’re not expecting that?”

“I’m not.”

“But you asked for a chance. I’m trying to give you a fair one. Just letting you hang around without making some kind of gesture to show the rest of the base that… that I approve… I just think this will work out a lot better for both of us if we aren’t at each other’s throats the whole time. You want to prove something? Well so do I.”

“What do you have to prove?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know when I figure it out. Or maybe I won’t.”

“You were never afraid of me, were you, Danny?”

“Of course I was.”

“No. Not like the others. Not you.”

Daniel stared into his coffee. He remembered being very afraid. He vividly remembered cowering in the back of a closet, wetting his pants from the sheer, stark terror. He remembered gagging on the vomit in his throat while one huge, callused, menacing hand clutched the nape of his neck like a vice, holding him down while… So he wasn’t sure what Marsh/Willison meant. “I think Andy was the brave one.” Andy had survived that place for six months, after all, with significantly fewer hang-ups than Daniel by the end.

Marsh stared at him, obviously at a loss.

“Andy. Andy Perez.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. The little Mexican boy. Dark.”

Andy was a red-head and very pale, and at nine, half again as tall as Daniel had been. More Basque than Castille in his back-ground, and his mother had been Irish. The Major – now the Colonel – had no clue who Andy was. Daniel frowned, wondering what that meant. Why remember him, to the extent that Marsh felt driven to hunt him down and follow him, when he had so completely forgotten the other boys who had fallen victim to his violence?

Daniel gulped down the last of his coffee. 

“I’m not really hungry after all. Enjoy your lunch, Maj—Colonel.”

When Daniel levered himself out the door on his crutches, Marsh followed. And close on his heels, without a word, Jack went too.

“What I don’t get,” complained Sam, “is how everyone found out. I didn’t say anything. I know you didn’t. I can’t believe the Colonel would. And Daniel won’t even talk to us unless at gun-point. So how does everyone know?”

“I believe it may have been airman Trent.”

“Hm. Trent, eh? You know, I’ve been having trouble finding volunteers to help me test Korra’s little mirror sphere. General Hammond wants a report on it for the Tok’ra meeting. Trent might make a good subject.”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow as he regarded his SG1 team-mate. Then he said, a propos of nothing, “I do not believe I have ever told you why we never recruit Jaffa women to be warriors.”

“No,” Sam sat up straighter, her gray-blue eyes fascinated. “You haven’t. I just assumed you thought women weren’t up to it.”

“No. That is not the reason.”

Carter waited in anticipation. And waited. Then Sam realized she was trying to out-wait Teal’c, and with a grin and a shake of her head, she admitted defeat. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why don’t you recruit female Jaffa to be warriors?”

Teal’c looked Sam dead in the eye and said, “Because we fear them.”

Sam blinked. Then she laughed, raising her tea in salute.

“Why, Teal’c, thank you. That’s quite possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever almost said to me.”

Teal’c felt a warm glow blossom deep within at his comrade’s sunny smile. It was a more profound, longer lasting sense of wholeness than came from kel-no-reem. He had never felt quite this quiet warmth, this rightness, unless it was when he was near his son, watching him sleep as a babe, playing with him in his extreme youth, or now, watching him take pride of place among Master Bra’tac’s young rebel trainees. Indeed, there was physical desire present when he looked at Major Carter, but he was familiar with that, and fully capable of controlling and resisting the animal urges. Less familiar was the unnamed longing he felt when he looked upon her, just to be near her, seeking a special place in her heart. He was not certain she could accord him that. He had come to acknowledge that he did indeed fear to ask her for it. For if she refused… In the meantime, he had learned to savor her comradeship, and more, the bond of trust and respect between them he knew was rare for anyone, be they Jaffa or Tau’ri.

There were many people and many causes Teal’c would fight for, kill for, die for. But there were only two he would live for. His son Rya’c was one. Major Carter had become the other.

“Well,” Sam said as she got up from the table, “I’ve got a mystery what-cha-ma-callit to keep from blowing up in our faces, and you’re due for kel-no-reem.”

Teal’c glanced toward the door of the commissary. “I believe I will ask Danieljackson to accompany me this afternoon. He has not joined me in this activity for some time. Under the circumstances, it might be a good time for him to renew his efforts.”

Sam gulped. “Oh. Well. Uh. See you later, Teal’c.”

Teal’c went in search of Danieljackson. With O’Neill watching Colonel Marsh, and Danieljackson under his own watchful Jaffa eye, both he and O’Neill would feel much reassured.

Å 

“Naquadah?”

“No.”

“Radiation?”

“No.”

“Noises?”

“Not one.”

“Lights, action, camera?”

“No, no and no. I’ve heated it, frozen it, dumped it in water, buried it in earth, done everything but coat it in peanut butter—“

“Oo, kinky,” Janet grinned at Sam over the incubator isolation box where the mirrored spherical object now sat.

“We’ve tried scanning it with everything we’ve got from X-ray to MIR to gamma bombardment to gas spectrum analysis, and I don’t have a clue what it’s made of, can’t chip a piece off it, and I can’t see inside.”

“Maybe it’s just a solid lump.”

“It weighs an ounce.”

“Okay, it’s a hollow lump. Does it rattle?”

“Nope. I’m beginning to think it’s a paperweight.”

“It weighs an ounce, Sam. And it rolls.”

“Good points.”

“What did Korra actually say about it?”

“He stole it from a Goa’uld called Marduk. That’s the System Lord who held Kendra, made her a host to one of his ‘children’. Daniel says he may have been one of Ra’s inner circle on Earth, since that name is also found in our mythology. Anyway, Korra infiltrated Marduk’s personal retinue. This was found on an Ancient site, millennia ago. It’s been hidden in his private vault ever since, under special locks and round-the-clock guard. Korra figured anything guarded that well had to be valuable. So when he got the chance, he stole it, and passed it to us when he didn’t dare try to contact any of the Tok’ra.”

“So he doesn’t know what it is either.”

“Nope. If anyone besides Marduk knows, they aren’t telling.”

The two women stared at the silent, innocent-looking ball in frustration. 

“I appreciate you helping me out like this, Janet, but you really don’t have to. It is pretty much a waste of time at this point.”

“That’s okay. The infirmary is empty. Daniel is out-patient. Actually, I’m keeping a bed ready for Colonel Marsh. I figure it’s only a matter of time before he meets with a serious accident.”

“You’ve heard too?”

“I think there’s an SF on duty at the front gate who might not have heard yet, but he’ll catch up at his next coffee break.”

“Well, don’t worry about the new Ex-O. There won’t be an accident.”

“No?”

“No,” Sam admitted reluctantly. “Daniel asked the General to keep him on. Had lunch with him today. I think everyone got the message.”

Janet shook her head. “Hasn’t Daniel got enough problems right now? This whole thing makes me feel very uneasy.”

“You and everyone else.”

“How’s the Colonel – our Colonel – taking it?”

“I think he’s still in shock. And handling Daniel with kid gloves.”

“Mm. Just as well, I suppose. There’s a lot of documentation on sexual problems for the victims of child abuse. Daniel certainly doesn’t need the stress right now. Speaking of which. Now that I’ve finally collected on the last bets for ‘are they or aren’t they hot for each other’—“

“Ferretti finally paid up?”

“He saw the security tape from the Transformer room on level eleven. No one would take a flyer on ‘will they or won’t they’. Everyone’s response was a variation on ‘well duh’. So I’ve started the ‘when’ pool. Interested? Give you a chance to get that fifty back.”

“You know, Janet, what we’re betting on is a gross violation of regulations. We really shouldn’t be talking about it at all. When if and as… we could get the Colonel canned out of the military at the very least, sent to Leavenworth at the worst, and Daniel fired all the way back to the Oriental Institute.”

“Now, Sam. You know I would never do anything that would jeopardize my friends. This is a very small, select group of interested well-wishers we’re talking about here.”

“Well then… Daniel would be mortified if he knew.”

“Daniel would not be mortified. He’d be disgusted that we don’t have anything better to do, but he wouldn’t be mortified. And you’re not concerned with the Colonel’s reaction?”

Sam could not quite quench all the asperity in her voice as she retorted, “If white rhinos had skins as thick as the Colonel’s, they wouldn’t be endangered.”

“Ouch! You’re really pissed, aren’t you? What did he do this time?”

“Oh… just… the usual. After Korra left us the maguffin here, and with the Tok’ra summit coming up, he’s been making all the same old comments. Completely forgetting that I’m standing right there! As if he doesn’t remember I was Tok’ra for a while, and my Dad still is one!”

Since Janet, along with most of the Base, happened to agree with Jack’s assessment of the Tok’ra’s reliability as allies, she made non-committal noises in reply. “I see.”

Sam reddened, looking a little mortified herself. “Sorry. Just had to vent there for a minute. I really do love the Colonel, you know…”

“Oh sure. Love is in the air. But it isn’t the Colonel who’s turning you inside out. So what’s *your* problem, Sam? I notice Teal’c is still sleeping alone.”

Sam groaned. “Yes, but he’s taking kel-no-reem with Daniel.”

“He… what?”

“You heard me.”

“But that doesn’t mean anything. Even Teal’c agrees that Daniel is warm for Colonel O’Neill’s form and vice versa. Sharing kel-no-reem is just a buddy thing.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t invite the Colonel to join him. Certainly not when they’re in their own bodies.”

“Uh, Sam… think about that for a minute. Jack O’Neill. Meditation. I can’t even get the two things in one sentence together without gagging.”

Sam gave another sigh as she ticked a probe off the surface of the shiny smooth sphere. “Maybe. But, Janet, you must have noticed. The average life expectancy of any man I actually date is somewhere around three weeks—“

“Ah yes,” said Janet wisely. “The Ponderosa Curse.”

“Pardon me?” Sam demanded, briefly distracted.

“It’s the Ponderosa Curse, and if you ask me, Teal’s got it too, and Daniel’s as bad as you. You know… When anyone even gets close to one of Lorne Greene’s boys, guaranteed they’re dead by the end of the episode. Dead or, in our case, taken host by a Goa’uld.”

“Hm. Well. The point is… I’m not sure I can cope if it turns out everyone I even fantasize about is into Daniel. First the Colonel, now Teal’c? Don’t get me wrong. I love Daniel like he was my kid brother. But I will *not* compete with him on this. I know my limits.”

“Wuss,” Janet retorted. “None but the brave deserve the fair. No guts no glory. Fair warning, Sam. If Teal’c is still unattached by Christmas, I’m going to see to it he spends New Year’s Eve with me.”

“Teal’c doesn’t drink.”

“Drinking is *not* what I had in mind.”

Sam eyed her friend. “You wouldn’t have one of those pools going on Teal’c and me, would you?”

“Now Sam, would I?”

“In a stone cold heartbeat.”

“Perish the thought,” Janet declared virtuously and with a clear conscience, since her considerable medical expertise told her that stone cold hearts did not, in fact, beat at all.

Å 

Daniel concentrated on his breathing. In and out. In and out. Maintaining a slow, steady rhythm. 

It wasn’t easy.

In retrospect, accepting Teal’c’s invitation to share kel-no-reem was a mistake. There was no way he was calm enough, centered enough, able to cling to the shreds of his life-long denial enough to put certain thoughts, feelings or memories out of his head. He used Sam’s trick of running through the multiplication tables, just to keep from gagging on fragments of nightmare that kept overwhelming him. It wasn’t that he was afraid to face the old garbage – he had survived it once, he could survive the ghosts of it now – but every time he gasped or shuddered, he could feel Teal’c surfacing from his deep meditation. And disturbing the Jaffa’s life-preserving ritual was unforgivable of him. 

At last – and it couldn’t have been the hour Teal’c usually required – Teal’c stretched and opened his eyes. They looked at each other silently for a moment. Teal’c wouldn’t ask. That wasn’t his way. And he didn’t need to offer. That was implicit. 

Daniel smiled sadly. “Sorry, Teal’c. I think I messed it up for you.”

“You are highly disturbed. You have cause.”

“Yes, well… Next time, why don’t you ask Sam to join you, instead?”

Teal’c tilted his head to one side. “You think she would be interested?”

“Oh, I think maybe. Yes. Look at it this way. You have to start somewhere, or you’ll be carrying that blue silk teddy in your back pocket for the rest of your life, wondering what it would look like on her.” 

Å 

Wednesday morning, Jack found his team gathered in the control room, watching the monitors. The MALP was transmitting pictures from a new world. Even after all this time, Jack acknowledged that he got a rush out of these moments of discovery. So did the rest of his team, so did everyone at the SGC. Even Hammond was there, watching the screen with the anticipation of a child opening a Christmas present. 

And, like a shadow behind the General, stood Colonel Marsh.

This particular address had come up out of the blue, not on the usual computer schedule for re-calculating for stellar drift from the Abydos List of Stargate addresses. 

“My God,” Daniel breathed. “This is incredible. Look at that. A fully intact Temple of the Ancients. It looks exactly like the one Ernest Littlefield found at Heliopolis.”

Jack allowed himself a covert glance at his friend, and found it very difficult to look away again. The gleam was back in Daniel’s eyes, and for the first time in days, the dark, haunted shadow was gone. Shame it took another old ruin to turn the trick. Jack risked a look at his companions, and saw that both Sam and Teal’c had recognized the same thing he had. Sam was grinning ear to ear like an idiot, and even Teal’c was rocking back on his feet with a smug smile on his face. And all three of them knew what Daniel would say next.

“General, I need to go there, as soon as possible. If there’s any chance there might be another Book like the one we found on Heliopolis, we have got to bring it back this time.”

“I understand, Dr. Jackson. Once we’ve made the usual remote survey and determined the site is secure, we’ll send a team. But it can’t be SG1, I’m afraid. You’re on medical stand-down. And we’re expecting a delegation from the Tok’ra on Friday, and I need you here.”

Oh, this is not going to be pretty, Jack knew, and waited for the totally predictable argument to unfold. 

“But General, I have to go. If it is another Heliopolis—“

“That’s enough, Danny,” said Colonel Marsh curtly. “You’ve got your orders.”

A pin dropping on the floor three levels away would have sounded like thunder. Jack could have sworn the temperature in the control room dropped twenty degrees, and at least some of the freeze was coming from him. He had been about to remind Daniel that he was still hobbling around on crutches, but there was no way he was going to bring that up now.

Daniel turned burning eyes on Marsh, his lips thinned to an invisible line. He went very still, but his jaw worked. It didn’t look like fear. It looked like fury. 

The General worked very hard not to notice the interplay between the two men, or the solid wall of hostility being thrown up by three other SG1 team members, four technicians and a couple of SFs who happened to be hanging around on the fringes. He said in a softened voice, trying to throw a bone, “You can be on the next team to go, and SG12 will, of course, bring back a complete record.”

Daniel turned away from Marsh, staring with grim determination at the screen. “General, you don’t need a linguist, with extensive experience in translating Ancient texts, just to meet the Tok’ra. I’m the obvious choice to lead SG12 on that planet survey. In fact, it would be just as well I check this out with them. Then Jack wouldn’t be tempted to shoot whatever we might find before I can figure out what it is.”

Jack groaned. “Why drag me into this? And you are never going to let that go, are you?”

“You know you hate these archeological surveys, Jack. What is it you called them, babysitting assignments? They bore the hell out of you. Please, General. I’ve lost one of those books. I can’t lose another.”

It was purely Jack’s imagination, to see a much younger Daniel, handcuffing himself to a rail and swallowing the key, prepared to talk as long and as loud as he needed till someone listened.

So, in accordance with what Jack had come to think of as the SGC’s Unspoken Directive…

General Hammond sighed, shaking his head. “Very well, Dr. Jackson. Once the initial security sweep is performed, you and SG12 will go to P3R909. You’ll give the mission briefing to SG12 tomorrow morning at 0900. And you will take the crutches with you when you go.”

“Yes, sir. And thank you.” Daniel had already forgotten anyone else was in the room, seating himself at the console where the MALP remote controls could begin the initial reconnaissance of the new planet. 

Kid with a new toy. But at least now he was a happy kid.

Å 

The SGC commissary was once again packed with the lunch crowd. Teal’c and Sam were sitting at their usual table, not really talking. The one issue that consumed most of their interest and energy at the moment had been talked to death, and had to be left in the air. It was impossible to talk around this lump in all their throats. Talking to anyone else was not an option. It was no one’s business but Daniel’s, really, even though everyone seemed to think it was.

Teal’c was seriously considering Daniel’s suggestion, although he had not yet made an invitation to Major Carter. But this afternoon, Daniel was safely established in the console room under many watchful eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it almost immediately, his lips firming into a grim line. His eyes narrowed and he straightened in that ominous battle-readiness of a trained Jaffa who looked forward to killing his enemy. Sam blinked, and turned to see the double doors of the commissary swing open.

Colonel Marsh entered. 

Like a classic western, the room went dead silent. Marsh glanced around at all the hostile faces turned his way, and a faint un-amused smile twisted at his lips. Without a word himself, he poured a coffee. He looked around the packed room for the one unoccupied chair near him. The two airmen occupying the table in question abruptly abandoned half-finished lunches, and left. Marsh sat down, and continued to smile wryly at anyone who dared meet his glance.

Teal’c made a low growl, and started to get up. Sam quickly reached out to touch his arm. 

“Teal’c, no.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because you’d have to explain it to Daniel.”

That stopped the Jaffa warrior when few other things could. Resentfully, he sat down, glaring over his shoulder at the Ex-O. Sam, too, sent Marsh an acid look.

The commissary door opened again. Colonel Jack O’Neill walked in. He nodded to the two or three who sent him a greeting, then crossed to Teal’c and Sam. 

“Daniel hasn’t come in for lunch?”

“He’s got the readings from P3R909, sir,” Sam replied. “I don’t think he‘s even on this planet at the moment.”

Jack nodded absently, then turned, and his attention focused on Marsh.

In half a minute, the whole cafeteria cleared. Teal’c and Sam were the last to leave, but then Jack and Marsh were alone. Even the airman behind the steam-table found he had duties elsewhere.

Jack deliberately took the chair opposite Marsh, twisted it around and straddled it, arms along the back. Marsh smiled faintly, leaning back in his own chair. Two career military men faced each other with all the appearance, and none of the reality, of ease. They were alike in some ways, at least. Both had extensive experience of the seamier side of duty. Both were dangerous and lethal predators at the top of their food chain. Both were damned if they were going to show weakness before the other. And both knew that they were mortal enemies in the most basic and elemental sense.

“So. Colonel O’Neill. I’ve been expecting you. Is this where you tell me to get the hell out of Dodge?”

“Nope. For reasons which are beyond me, Daniel wants you here.”

“And what Danny wants makes a difference?”

“What *Dr. Daniel Jackson* wants is very important around here, yes. Let me give you the picture, so there’s no chance of misunderstanding. 

“The official purpose of this Command is to provide first line defense for planet Earth. To use the Stargate for exploration, to assess level of threat, and to bring back anything that can help us fight against the Goa’uld. However, we also have an unofficial Unspoken Directive that is just as important, because without the one, we don’t have the other. And the Unspoken Directive is to keep *Dr. Daniel Jackson* alive, well and reasonably happy. And we hate it like hell on those all-too-frequent occasions when, for security, strategic military or political reasons, we have to settle for alive and well. You’ve read our mission reports?”

“I have. Especially Danny’s missions.”

“Then you know that without *Dr. Daniel Jackson*, there would be no Stargate Command, and the Earth would be a smoking cinder in space. And all things being equal, chances are good that we’ll probably need him to save the planet again. So he is very important to us all. You, Colonel, are severely jeopardizing our Unspoken Directive. Now, I wouldn’t want you to make the serious mistake of thinking that, just because no one has yet dragged you to a deserted store-room to beat the living crap out of you, that we haven’t all thought about it, or it isn’t still a popular option. The only thing keeping you out of that store-room right now is *Dr. Daniel Jackson*. He has expressed the wish that we lay the hell off you. And, I believe I have said, keeping *Dr. Daniel Jackson* reasonably happy is grounds for going out of our way when possible. But. There are limits.”

“Oh, I understand entirely, Colonel O’Neill.”

“Glad to hear it, Colonel Marsh. As long as you do understand, and make sure you observe the Unspoken Directive with due diligence. Otherwise, you will force me to issue a bunch of cliché threats, and I *hate* clichés.”

“No need, Colonel O’Neill. You know, Danny always did have a way of bringing out the mother hen in people. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed briefly, but he nodded, then got up and strolled to the commissary doors. Then he paused, and glanced back over his shoulder. 

“And, by the way, Colonel. Call him Danny one more time, and I’ll drag you to a deserted store-room and beat the living crap out of you, no matter what *Dr. Daniel Jackson* wants.”

Marsh regarded the shut doors a moment, clutching so hard to his cup that it splashed. He set it down, absently wiping coffee from his hand. He rubbed thoughtfully at the scar on his chin, his hard steel-gray eyes narrowing. And then, slowly, he smiled.

Å 

Late that afternoon, Jack entered General Hammond’s office for a briefing on the Tok’ra summit, just as a courier arrived with a thick manila envelope.

“Glad you’re here for this, Jack,” Hammond said, eyeing the package as if it were a still-unidentified alien artifact. “That Tok’ra briefing is just part of the reason I wanted to talk with you alone. I’m still not comfortable with any of this other mess. How is Dr. Jackson handling it?”

“I’m not the right person to ask, sir. He’s not talking to me. Or anyone else except Colonel Marsh, as far as I know. And he’s the only one who is talking to Marsh. To tell the truth, I think the rest of us are more freaked than Daniel. I keep trying to find excuses to go and guard his office. Then I find Carter or Teal’c or Ferretti or Siler, or half of SG3 is there ahead of me.”

“The whole base knows,” General acknowledged. “God knows how. Somebody on my staff must be a telepath.”

“I think it was more likely the airman who was told to go get a key for Daniel’s office door. He came back and heard more than he should have.”

“But Dr. Jackson’s office doesn’t have a… It does?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hm. Having everyone know the truth can’t be easy on him.”

“If he even knows, I don’t think he cares much about that, either. What’s driving Daniel crazy right now is that no one will leave him alone. That’s probably part of the reason he’s so anxious to cut loose from us all and go play on P3R909. As for Marsh… he’s getting the cold shoulder from the entire base.”

Hammond nodded grimly. “I thought as much. I’ve been in touch with the powers that be at the Pentagon, and no one wants to admit that they’re the one who assigned him in the first place.”

“That’s kind of odd, seeing the pressure they put on you to get him here.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Hammond slit open the delivered envelope.

“What’s that, sir?”

“I’ve already got Marsh’s records, both as Marsh and Willison, but I wasn’t satisfied. There’s nothing in his records, or in Dr. Jackson’s, about child abuse charges. So I pulled some strings and threw the National Security Act around to get a copy of the official NYPD case notes. Because minors were involved, they’d been sealed.”

“They still had them? After thirty years? I thought no charges were ever laid.”

“The case was never closed. According to Dr. Jackson, there were some boys who ran away from that house, missing, never found.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that…”

“I don’t like the sound of any of this.”

The file was bulky, containing the police notes of the investigating officers, interview transcripts, social workers’ reports, medical files, and pictures. 

Pictures. 

Hammond and Jack stared at them a few moments before they could even bring themselves to believe what they were seeing. One had to be given a quarter twist, before it suddenly, shockingly, made sense.

“God almighty…” Hammond breathed.

Jack muttered grimly, “Daniel said he was a mess. That the other kid was bruised. Not… not this. Jesus Christ. Marsh damn near killed those kids.”

Hammond sat there a moment, looking at nothing while his jaw worked. Then he turned cold eyes on Jack, and groped for the medical file. “I think we’d better see what else is here.”

They both read on in silence. Jack could feel his guts freezing on some of the evidence, some of the conclusions. 

Nine counts of maiming. Eleven of physical and seven of sexual abuse of minors. It had occurred to Jack that the beatings might not have been all of it… but to see it all laid out in its straightforward clinical coldness, like an autopsy on a still-breathing body… And he would not, could not, bring himself to link it up to a man he had known for years, a man who had saved his butt, whose butt he had saved in return, a man he called friend, because that was as much as Daniel would let him have, for now. Well, no damned wonder!

“Here it is,” Hammond said, breaking into Jack’s reverie. “There were three boys, assigned to Willison’s custody, between the ages of ten and thirteen, who disappeared over a two year period. They were only reported missing after Willison was arrested, and have never been found.”

Jack shuddered yet again. Every line in this damned file, every photo was a goddamned horror. “Daniel said something about rumors that Willison had killed some boys, buried them in the backyard… He didn’t believe it. He thinks those kids ran away. Possible, I suppose. They sure as hell had enough reason. The police did check the house and grounds, and didn’t find any signs of foul play. But still… those pictures…”

Hammond boiled quietly. “I don’t care who’s behind this appointment. I don’t care what Dr. Jackson says. That man is not staying in my facility even one minute longer. Jack, call security. Have them meet me at Marsh’s office. I want a private word with him. Oh… and don’t let anyone else see these. It’s going to be hard enough getting him out of here alive as it is.”

“You sure we want him to get out of here alive, sir?”

General Hammond had to think about that. “And if he doesn’t, will you be the one to explain to Dr. Jackson?”

“Aw hell…” Jack wanted to gut-shoot the guy. He knew only too well what Teal’c’s reaction would be if he saw these… hell, Carter would be even more dangerous if she had any idea. Teal’c was Jaffa, but Carter was inventive. 

“And one more thing, Jack. No one tells Dr. Jackson. I want that son-of-a-bitch on a plane and out of this state before Dr. Jackson hears anything about this.”

Jack’s mouth twisted. “Cowardice, General, sir?”

“This is not my first corn roast, Colonel. I don’t want to explain to him, either.”

Jack arrived back in front of Marsh’s office just as Hammond escorted him out. The other Colonel had a grim smile on his face. 

“Not even time to pack, sir?” Marsh asked.

“We’ll pack up your things and ship them to you. I don’t think you realize, Colonel, how humanitarian I’m being here. Dr. Jackson is not just a highly valued member of the SGC, he’s like family. I’m not sure how long I can keep secret the details of your… past history with him. Once that becomes common knowledge, you’re through here anyway. Now get out. Airman, see this man to the outer gate. I’ve arranged for a security detail to take him to the Denver airport. Hand him over to them at the gate.”

“Yes sir,” the security guard agreed, eyeing the Colonel with hostility. Even the gate guards felt over-protective of their archeologist, and were fully apprised of all the latest rumors.

“It’s been a pleasure serving with you, General, Colonel,” Marsh said with a mocking salute. “Say goodbye to Danny for me, will you?” He turned to leave.

“Aw hell,” grumbled Jack. “Colonel Marsh.”

Marsh turned… and caught a fist slamming him square in the jaw, right on the scar line. He landed on the floor. No one made a move to help him to his feet.

Hammond gave Jack a weary glance, then told Marsh, “I did not see that, nor did these men. Consider yourself getting off light, Colonel.”

Marsh left without another word, flanked side, front and rear by armed men. 

Hammond turned to Jack. “I’m going to ask Dr. Fraiser to review the medical reports in that file. I can’t believe… this kind of thing had to leave scars. As staff physician, she should be made aware of… Then I may want to call the NYPD and have a little talk with them about their file. They may want to know that the prime suspect in the maiming of nine children and the disappearance of three more is still alive and at large. The last thing I want is to be responsible for any more of this kind of… atrocity.”

Å 

This was a mistake, just as Carter obviously thought, Jack told himself as he pushed the elevator button for Daniel’s floor. But Teal’c had given him the thumbs up to go ahead, and he trusted Teal’c’s judgment more than his own, on almost all matters. Yes, it was a risk. If he screwed this up… But then, he told himself, this was Daniel. If he screwed up that badly, maybe he could get by with begging a second chance. What the hell. He got paid the big bucks to take five risks like this before breakfast. Or not risks just like this… God help him if he screwed this up. 

For just a moment, his finger trembled as he reached for the bell. Then he cursed himself for a damn fool and punched it savagely. 

Daniel had a judas in his door, but he never used it. The door swung open, and he stood there, staring. 

“Jack?”

“Daniel.”

A wry smile curved Daniel’s lips, and he stood aside for Jack to come in, burdened with a large pizza and a six-pack of beer. “What if I’ve already had dinner?” he asked, taking the pizza box into the kitchen.

“Then there’s more for me. Luckily, you don’t like beer, or I would have brought more than six.”

“Uh-hunh. And the reason for this visit? Not that I don’t already have a pretty good idea, but you must have a cover. You always do.” 

“There’s a game in Toronto, and you have satellite.”

“So do you.”

“Squirrels ate the cable connection.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

“I thought Sam was going to rig you some sort of a wireless connection so this wouldn’t happen any more?”

“The last time I let Carter rig something fancy for me, I had to throw it out because I couldn’t figure out how to work it any more.”

Daniel actually grinned at him. God, how he loved those grins… 

“Okay, this one’s pretty good. Help yourself to pizza and the TV.”

“So, Daniel. Watcha doin’?”

“I still have some work to do on my briefing notes for SG12.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to bring work home anymore.”

“I hid the disc down the front of my pants when I left the base. Got the idea from ‘The Sting’. ‘Ain’t a tough guy in the world will frisk you there.’”

Jack had a flashing image of doing the frisking himself… and almost choked on the first pull of his beer. In desperation, he dropped into Daniel’s sofa, and crossed his legs as camouflage for a certain problem he now had with the fit of his suddenly snug jeans. 

“Anyway, Sam read me the riot act and wouldn’t let me stay any later.”

No one could say SG1 wasn’t good at the teamwork thing.

“Actually, Jack, since you’re here… there is something I’ve been meaning to speak to you about.”

Jack couldn’t believe it. He had expected this to take finely applied pressure, maybe even interrogation tactics. To have Daniel volunteer like this… “Yes?”

“I think you should lay off the Tok’ra comments for a while.”

Jack blinked, frantically back-pedaling to get on the same page. “What?”

“Everyone knows how you feel about the Tok’ra by now, or they should. Take it as read that they do, anyway. You don’t need to rub it in.”

“I’m sorry, you lost me. What has my opinion of the Tok’ra got to do with… anything?” 

“It’s Sam, Jack. Every time you say something negative about the Tok’ra—“

“She leaps to their defense. Yeah, I know. It irritates the hell out of me.”

Daniel frowned frostily at him. “There’s a reason for that, Jack. A Tok’ra took her body, used her, then died to save her life.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there, remember?”

“And she gave her father to them.”

“I seem to recall something about that, too. So?”

“So, Sam has a lot invested in the Tok’ra. A lot. They may turn out to be every bit as untrustworthy as you think, but it won’t help Sam feeling like a traitor to keep saying it.”

“Carter feeling like a… what?”

“Come on, Jack. Every time you, the man she respects most in the world, tells her she’s wrong to trust the Tok’ra, she feels more like a traitor. You’re telling her she’s aided and abetted the enemy. A sympathizer. Worse, that she’s betrayed her father, the man she loves most in the world, because she gave him to them. Get the picture now?”

Jack sucked in a breath, appalled. “I never told her that she…”

“Yeah, Jack. You do. Every time you open your mouth about the Tok’ra. Of course she’s defensive. Just… lay off for a while, okay?”

Retreat to beer, and hockey. There was nothing else to do. Oh yeah, and think. Damn it, he never meant… He never thought… He never thought at all, actually, unless he was under the gun. Daniel’s stern-eyed look would do as a handy substitute. But Daniel was right. Again. Damn it. 

And if this turned out to be a certain archeologist’s sneaky way of using emotional Ju Jitsu to avoid the real issue Jack had come to thrash out, he was going to be real annoyed. 

An hour later, and Jack wasn’t watching the hockey game, and Daniel hadn’t typed a single key since the beginning of the second period. 

Jack snuck a glance toward the dining room table, where Daniel had set up his laptop. Daniel sat there, staring into space. Thinking, or brooding? It was real hard to tell with Daniel. He did both with single-minded devotion.

“Thinking or brooding, Daniel?”

The other man closed his eyes briefly, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I thought at least you’d wait till the game was over.”

“So I cracked first. You aren’t going to get any further with that briefing tonight. Give it up and talk to me.”

“I’d say about what, but that’s a crass way of trying to dodge the bullet, and it wouldn’t work anyway.” With great deliberation, Daniel shut down the laptop, and closed the lid. But he didn’t move from the dining room chair.

Jack sighed deeply. Well, he didn’t think this would be easy, did he?

“I could tell you the score of the hockey game, but you could care less. Or I could push you to drink a beer or two. That always seems to loosen your tongue. But one way or another, I’m not leaving until you talk to me, so you might as well get it over with.”

Daniel winced. “You know, I *hate* it when you guys treat me like an eight-year-old, like I can’t take care of myself. Because I know that I can. I am *not* a victim. What you don’t seem to understand is that sometimes I don’t want to be rescued. I don’t need to be rescued.”

“Are we talking about recent events? Or that incident in the park three weeks ago? DJ was going to shoot you, Daniel.”

“I thought I could… I don’t know. Get through to him. Save him. Fix things.”

“You can’t help people who won’t help themselves. You know that.”

“But they were me. What does it say when I couldn’t help either of them?”

“They weren’t you. They weren’t anything like you. Trust me, I’m an expert on this. Anyway, I don’t know… I think you did help Dr. J. He didn’t save his Andy Perez all those years ago, and it was rotting him from the inside out, whether he wanted to admit it or not. But he did save you. He seemed pretty satisfied with that, at the end.”

Daniel didn’t reply to that. 

“Yeah, well…” Jack went on. “The biggest difference between you and me, Daniel, isn’t about age or intelligence or even the military-versus-civilian thing. It’s pain threshold. Now, I can tolerate a lot of pain when I’m forced, say, at the end of a Goa’uld shock-rod, but I sure as hell don’t like it, and try to put a stop to it as soon as possible. You, on the other hand, don’t even seem to realize you should be screaming until blood pours out your ears. You just keep taking it and hiding it, or pretending it isn’t there, until you fall down. And the real reason we’re all on your case so much is because none of us can take what you do, and none of us can stand watching you take it. So since you won’t do something to stop it yourself, we figure we have to.” 

“So you’re telling me being over-protective is really enlightened self-interest?” Daniel retorted with a shadowy smile.

“Okay.”

Daniel shook his head, looking down and away, then right back at Jack. “I know you want to help. I know you think I need help… and maybe I do. But... It’s a habit, you know? Shutting it off, pretending it isn’t there, dealing with it on my own. Or not. And I forget that there’s anyone else out there who can help, who wants to, who’ll even listen. For the longest time, there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it’s a learned response, trusting, relying on other people, and I… un-learned it.”

“Don’t give me that bull-shit, Daniel. Are you sitting there and telling me you didn’t trust Sha’re and let your guard down with her? Or that you don’t trust Teal’c and Carter and me? Because I don’t buy it. After all we’ve been through together… You’re shutting us out when you should be letting us in. You’re a fan of ‘The Sting’. You don’t treat your friends like marks, remember? And what I really don’t understand is, why the hell aren’t you screaming your head off? That son of a bitch beat you, almost to death! You haven’t said, but I know he raped other kids, for Christ’s sake! And for days you’ve been acting like it’s all business as usual. Well the hell with that. Aren’t you even a little bit angry?” 

“*Yes*, God-damn it!” Daniel exploded with the suddenness of a volcano, lurching from that chair and pacing like a caged wild cat. “Yes, I’m angry! God… angry? There’s no word in any language I know that even comes close to how I feel! He tore my life apart. God, Jack, I thought I *killed* a man! I thought I *killed* him! And I was glad. I couldn’t say I was sorry, because I wasn’t. I honestly thought I’d go to Hell for that. Hell is for murderers after all, isn’t it? There’s nothing worse you can do than kill another human being and be glad about it. So I knew, no matter what else I ever did, I was going to Hell. And the worst part of that was that the Major would be in Hell, too, had to be, waiting for me, and I’d never get away from him there. Can you imagine that? Because I did, every goddamned night for years. An eternity of hiding in closets when I heard him come home. An eternity of him catching me and beating me till I couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t stand up, couldn’t fight him off. An eternity of him forcing me down and... violating me. Again and again. To be his victim, forever and ever, world without end. Angry? *Angry*?” 

Jack watched him storm up and down, reaching for things he could throw, and even in this mood, unable to damage any of his priceless artifacts. So Jack silently picked up the glass Daniel had given him for his beer (in which Jack had not poured any beer when there was a perfectly good can), and handed it over. Did Daniel even realize what he was doing? Probably not. He grabbed the glass and hurled it against the wall, where it shattered with a satisfying crash of noise.

And then he stood panting, his face white, his blue eyes unnaturally bright, staring at the ruins of the glass. And something dangerous and venomous seemed to drain away, out of him. His hands fell to his sides, and his whole body shuddered. But it wasn’t with relief, it wasn’t relaxation. If possible, he became more tense, wound one more impossible twist tighter. 

“And what I hate the most is, he makes me afraid. Of myself.” He put out a hand suddenly to brace against the wall as he toppled forward.

“Daniel!” Jack lurched to his feet and went to grab his friend, wondering if his leg was giving out on him. 

Daniel whirled suddenly to face Jack, clutched him by both shoulders and wrenched him forward, off his feet. They both tilted until Daniel’s back slammed against the wall. And in a death-grip, Daniel fastened his mouth on Jack’s…

Å 

“Daniel?”

“Jack?”

“Where ya goin’?”

Daniel hesitated, sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching for a bathrobe. He wouldn’t look back at the naked man on his bed, spread out to take more than half of the space.

“I thought… we were done here.”

“The hell we are. What, you think you can jump me, seduce the hell out of me, make me go off like a rocket, and then walk out? That’s just plain bad manners. For crying out loud. We were both married. We know how it works. First you get the bone-dissolving sex, then you get the cuddles. I like the cuddles. I look forward to the cuddles. I do not consider anything done without cuddles. I want my cuddles, Danny – Daniel.”

Daniel stiffened, and Jack cursed himself for using that loaded nickname. But what he was thinking and what Daniel was thinking were, once again, totally different thinks. At last, Daniel did risk a glance back at him, and the expression in those huge dark eyes was exasperation. Which was a hell of a lot better than the wounded look they held a few minutes ago.

“If you don’t mind, Jack, I’m feeling a little inadequate right now.”

“I don’t know why. Since you were apparently in a different room at the time, that was your name I was screaming ten minutes ago. And eight minutes ago. Oh yeah, and four minutes ago.”

It was a toss-up. Jack considered trying another joke, another sarcastic comment. But he was afraid to risk it. If it was going to end right here, right now… maybe it would be better to get it over with.

Then Daniel sighed, and eased back onto the bed. 

Jack could breathe again. He plucked at the terry-cloth. “What the hell is this?”

“Protective armor, I think.”

“Well, it ain’t workin’. And it’s in the way.”

Daniel seemed way too shaken to realize he was obeying an order, which was just as well. At least it got the robe shucked to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel confessed softly.

Jack grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer, his hand running up and down a smooth flank that was still pleasantly slick with cooling sweat. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t think all you had to do was turn the key and rev up the engine, did you? Hell. You did. For crying out loud Dan---iel, if nothing else, you’re not a teenager any more. It happens to us older guys. And most of us don’t have the baggage you’re carrying around.”

“Yes well, it’s never happened to me. I suppose I shouldn’t complain. At least I didn’t bash you over the head with a brass lamp. I was kind of afraid I might.”

“A comment on my performance?”

“No. Reflex. Could have happened, you know. I’m not even sure how we managed to make it into the bedroom.”

“Yeah, you were real distracted. First times are always a little tricky. We’ll get better at this, I promise. We’ll read up. There’s got to be books on it.”

Daniel’s stiffened body – stiffened in every place but one, it seemed – began to relax, soften, become pliable and warm and wonderful, easing against Jack’s length. He was smiling, too, Jack could tell, even in the darkened bedroom. “Um… actually…”

“What? You got books? What am I saying. Of course you’ve got books.”

“Bedside table drawer. No, this side.”

Jack made a production out of squirming over top of Daniel’s naked body. He groped – for the drawer. Inside were books whose titles he couldn’t make out in the gloom, a large tube of something or other, a box of condoms.

“I see you’re prepared! So, any ideas?”

“Well, um…”

“Yes?” Jack prompted, still half lying on Daniel, propped on one elbow, his eyes gleaming as he looked down at his new lover. He found that the hollow above his hip fit perfectly over Daniel’s stomach, like interlocking logs in a cabin joint. Warm skin on warm skin, getting warmer by the moment.

“I… uh… had nerve enough to buy this stuff, but not to actually read any of it.”

“There’s got to be seven or eight books in here, Daniel. You never read any of them? Just kept them handy?”

“I have a rich fantasy life.”

“That’s a good start, anyway. You do realize you’re blushing, by the way? How do you ever hope to really make it into Hell when you can blush? Start writing stuff down and we’ll give it a go. Too bad neither of us has done this before.”

“Well, technically—“

“Oh, don’t even *think* of going there, Daniel. That does not count.”

“No?”

“Believe me. It does not count.”

Daniel considered Jack O’Neill, a big, boneless lion sprawled possessively across his torso, looking sexy, dangerous and good enough to eat. A magnificent beast with fierce tawny eyes that glowed, and not in the bad Goa’uldy way, but it the good fiery passion-filled way. He put out a hand to touch the wide expanse of chest, savoring the iron strength there, awed that at last, beyond all hope and expectation, he was right here, right now. Everything in Daniel turned toward Jack, longing, hungry… Why the *hell* wasn’t it enough?

It wasn’t enough because a nightmarish ghost kept intruding.

“Daniel. Does. Not. Count. I’ll take a couple of these with me.” 

“You will? That sounds like you mean to try this again.”

“Damn straight I do.”

“Straight. Yes. About that. I thought you were. Hell, I thought I was.”

“I’m open to negotiation, obviously. And I consider this to be a better offer. Look, Daniel, don’t worry about it, okay? It’s going to work out. You’ll see. Trust me.”

Daniel sighed. “Trust. I’m not sure about that, Jack. I have it on good authority that the victims of child abuse have problems with trust.”

“Hm. Yes. Well. Maybe it’s time we talked about your problems, Daniel, since you keeping them to yourself hasn’t worked out real well for you. Why the hell did you let him stay, anyway? Why give him a second chance?” 

“I didn’t do it for him. I did it for me. I needed to know that I wasn’t his victim any more. I needed to know that he had no power over me. I needed to prove that he couldn’t turn me back into that scared, *pathetic* little boy.”

Jack shook his head, leaning forward to kiss Daniel’s chest, and punctuating his words with additional kisses creeping up toward his mouth. “There’s nothing pathetic about you, Daniel. Not even as a little boy. My God, even then you were stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. I can’t believe I even have to tell you this. You survived. No matter what they threw at you, you survived. All I have to do is think of Charlie, having to go through what you did… My God, I want to kill that bastard Marsh. But you survived. And you did it alone. No one should have to go through what you did at all, let alone… well, alone. And what you’re going to have to get through that thick and brilliant cracked skull of yours is, you aren’t alone any more. You’ve got baggage now all right, and it’s called SG1, and you’re going to have one hell of a time getting rid of it. After four years, it’s time you suck it up and get used to it.”

For a moment, Jack concentrated on Daniel’s lips. When he no longer had breath for that, and Daniel shivered in response, he drew back and grinned. “So. Did you prove what you needed to?”

“Um… What? Oh. Yes. Yes I think I did.”

“Good, because he’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” 

“No one told you? I guess the threats worked. Hammond canned his ass this afternoon. Marsh, Willison, whatever name you want to use. He’s gone, Daniel.”

The younger man blinked owlishly in the dark. “Why?”

“Because we got the police report.”

“So? I told you what happened. What he was, what he did.”

“Yeah, well, you glossed over a few important facts. And you were real vague on the details. There were pictures.”

Daniel frowned. “Pictures?”

“You never saw that file, did you?”

“I didn’t need to. I was there, Jack. But I don’t remember any pictures.”

“Uh-hunh. Probably because when you finally passed out on the floor of the police station, you were in a coma for three days. Which is just as well, because they had to take you to surgery twice. Punctured lungs, a shattered leg they practically had to build from scratch, and a fractured skull. Not to mention forty three stitches in other places, thirteen pins in your leg, a cast for six months, and intermittent amnesia from the cracked skull. Intermittent amnesia?”

“Blackouts. I had blackouts for a while.”

“No kidding. Oh yeah, and a broken arm, too. No one could figure how you managed to stay on your feet, let alone get Andy Perez into that little red wagon – he was bigger than you were – and pull him three blocks to the police station, with your head split open, a broken arm and your right leg turned into a big bag of jello. Christ, Daniel. You were a mess? A mess?”

He rolled alongside his lover and gripped tight, promising himself that on the next appropriate occasion, when Daniel got over being tied into knots, he would seek out each and every one of those old wounds, and soothe the old pain away. Right now, he contented himself with letting his hand rub small circles in the small of Daniel’s back, feeling the tension ease away by tiny increments.

“Oh, and you better get a good excuse ready, because General Hammond ratted you out to ol’ Doc Fraiser. I’d stay out of her way, since you never mentioned that all those old injuries happened in one night, not spread out over ten years, like you let her believe. Maybe she’ll buy amnesia, all things considered.”

“I didn’t lie to her… exactly…”

“Mm. Don’t think she’s going to agree. Anyway… Hammond went Jaffa when he saw the report. So did I. There was no way Marsh was going to stay after that. He would have been dead meat the next time Teal’c or Sam or me or half a dozen other folks caught him alone in a corner. So I really hope you got whatever it was you needed to out of your system.”

Daniel didn’t answer. He seemed to be getting sleepy. Oddly, Jack was feeling wide awake. Something about the easing tension in Daniel was increasing his. “So tell me. How long have you been lusting for my bod?”

Daniel coughed a chuckle. “A long, long time.”

“And you could resist all this for a long, long time?”

Daniel looked up at him, unexpectedly solemn. “It wasn’t easy, Jack. But all I had to remember was how much I stood to lose if I screwed up.”

“And what did you stand to lose?”

“You. And that would have been too much. So I… embraced the whole unrequited love thing.”

“That crack you made, about him making you afraid of yourself?”

“Baggage, Jack. The bastard left me with a lot of baggage. I’ve been trying to get rid of it, but… apparently it’s no more dead than he is.”

“Hey, you did just fine.”

“To a certain point. And not beyond.”

“Not yet. Cut yourself a break, Danny – Daniel. Sorry. Daniel.”

He frowned, puzzled, back at Jack. “Why are you doing that?”

“I know you don’t like to be called… I didn’t realize it was because that’s what he calls you.”

“It isn’t. Lots of people call me Danny. My parents, for instance. You used to.”

“Yes, and you hated it.”

“It isn’t the nickname. It’s why people use it. The Major used it to reduce me, belittle me, make me feel like I was eight years old. He still does. And that’s why you used it, back in the beginning. To make me feel young and incompetent. That’s what I objected to.”

“That’s not why… well… okay, for a little bit, in the very beginning, I needed all the edge I could get. Even if it was only in my own head. Then… then when I started using it for other reasons, I had to stop using it altogether, or I would have to face just exactly what I was getting into, and I wasn’t ready to do that. You weren’t ready either. There was still a chance Sha’re… then you were hurting too bad. I may be insensitive, but I’m not nearly as stupid as I pretend.”

“That much I always knew.”

“So when did you know, that you wanted me?” Jack persisted.

Daniel smiled sleepily, burrowing deeper into Jack’s comforting hold. “Keb.”

“Come on, don’t pass out now. I want details.”

“Oma’s priest said I had burdens to put aside. I thought at first he meant this thing I have about the Goa’uld. But that was only part of it. I realized I had to let go of Sha’re, too. The last promise I made her… was a way of keeping her with me a little longer. But I had to let it, and Shifu, and Sha’re, go. And when I looked up, there you were, waiting. And when I asked you to trust me… you did. Do you even realize, that was the first time you ever did? You actually put down your weapon, in a life-threatening situation, just because I asked you to. That was a first, too. I think I lost my heart, right then and there.”

Jack had been feeling all warm and gooey, until that comment. His hand stopped its gentle, aimless roving around Daniel’s safe zones. And very gradually, he snuck up on more delicate territory.

He already knew to stay away from Daniel’s ass. That’s what had almost destroyed this fragile relationship before it had properly begun. Which was a crying shame, considering just how much Jack longed to become intimately acquainted with that sexy back-side. But that still left a lot of equally delectable territory. He remembered a moment earlier in the evening when Daniel had quoted from “The Sting”. Ah yes. Frisking had been mentioned. 

“Jack?”

“Daniel. Relax. Just checking for smuggled contraband from the base.”

“You’re… ah!… what?”

“Frisking you.”

“Frisking… you mean… Jack, I don’t…”

“I do. Security is part of my duty. This won’t hurt a bit. Promise. Just let me see what you’re hiding, tough guy.”

“Jack!” Daniel gasped. In another few minutes he was writhing. Then he was arching, shouting out threats, promises, curses, not even one of them in a language Jack knew. Jack waited till the begging began, and then it didn’t much matter what language it was in, because a certain linguist’s body was doing all the talking. Then Jack got serious. 

After that, if there was anything left that Daniel could possibly be hiding, Jack would have found it. Everything else Daniel willingly gave up, and gave back till Jack’s whole body hummed with pleasure. But it was an equal give-and-take this time. No one left behind.

Jack chuckled, feeling immensely smug. “Thought you couldn’t do it, hunh, Danny?”

“Mmph,” strangled the other, limp as a rag, draped all over Jack, right where he belonged.

It took a lot – a *LOT* – to render Dr. Daniel Jackson non-verbal. As his first successful effort in that regard, Jack felt it was worthy of celebration, with much hoopla and rejoicing, to be marked on a calendar for future reference and, if at all possible, repeat performances. 

Å 

Thanks to years of training, when Colonel Jack O’Neill woke from a sound sleep, he did so all at once, alert and battle-ready. But he never expected to battle Daniel. Sometime during the night, they had slipped naturally into spoon positions, Jack wrapped around Daniel.

But now, suddenly, the younger man was wrestling, eyes tight shut, mumbling nonsense syllables.

“Danny, wake up. It’s just a dream. Daniel!”

The other didn’t hear, locked in nightmare. Jack found it all too easy to guess which one. His first impulse was to grab Daniel and hold tight… but not now. So instead he let go and backed away, reaching out to jog Daniel’s shoulder.

“Daniel! Wake up!”

Daniel lurched out of it with a heart-rending cry, staring horrified into the darkness. He would be looking at a large, male silhouette, looming over him… 

“It’s okay, Daniel. It’s me. It’s me.” Jack reached to turn on the nearest lamp.

Then both of them stared at Daniel’s hand, gripping white-knuckled to the base of the brass lamp on the other bedside table. Daniel’s face went stark white, and his hand trembled as he drew it away.

“Oh God, Jack… I… Oh God.”

“Take it easy, Daniel. It was just a dream. You’re okay.”

“Am I? Oh God…”

“The same nightmare, about Willison?”

“No. Not exactly. Different. When I hit him and he goes down, I turn him over and… he’s you.”

Daniel tried to draw away. Jack wouldn’t let him, pulled him closer, held him tight.

“Oh God… I don’t want to hurt you. I swear. That’s the last thing I… Oh God.”

“It’s okay. Hush. I’m a tough guy. I can take it. It’s okay, Daniel.”

“Is it? How? You haven’t thought this out yet, have you? What happens at the next Gadmir ship? Are you going to give the order that kills me?”

“Shit.” Jack went cold.

“You are. You know you are. And it’ll come. It’s inevitable. We both know it. Because of what we have to do, and the only way either one of us knows to do it. And I know when that time comes – when, Jack, not if – I know that if it’s me who survives, even if it’s me who has to give the order, just as I did to blow that Russian sub, I know I’ll be *fine*,” and he spat out the word bitterly, tears in his eyes, “because I’m always fine. I survive, and I pick up the pieces, and I go on no matter who I’ve lost, or how much of me is torn out and burning. But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You said it yourself, Jack. You do something about the pain. You don’t stand it one moment more than you have to. That first mission, you were going to blow a nuclear weapon up in your own face because you couldn’t deal with the pain any more. I don’t want you to do that because of me.”

“Daniel—“

“Jack. Oh God, I feel a Bogey quote coming on… the lives of two people don’t amount to a hill of beans when the world is at stake. I love you, Jack. I don’t want to hurt you. Please, don’t be hurt because of me, okay?”

“I won’t. Promise,” Jack lied. 

What was he supposed to say? Sorry, but it’s too late? I’m already way past not getting hurt? That even the Gadmir Ship incident had just about broken him, it was just that he was waiting till the job was done, waiting till he got the rest of his team home, waiting till he was alone before he fell apart? Hell no. A couple of hundred years of purgatory were worth it. Anything to reassure the three a-m post-nightmare terrors of a man pitch-forked back into the eight-year-old boy who had suffered far too much already.

For a long time Jack lay wakeful, simply holding Daniel. He had said the words, “I love you”, so easily, so naturally, as if he had been saying the sky was blue or water wet. But he had left no space for a reply. Maybe he didn’t need one. Maybe he was afraid he wouldn’t get one. “I love you,” he had said, with no hesitation, no reservation, no question or qualification. 

Jack held on very, very tight until the shivering stopped, and Daniel slept again. Then he dropped a kiss on the top of that head. It occurred to Jack that Daniel probably wouldn’t remember the nightmare, or what had followed, come morning.

Å 

Sam and Teal’c looked up from their breakfast as Jack and Daniel entered the commissary. 

They weren’t touching. They didn’t have to be. Jack snagged an extra mug of coffee and put it on his tray to bring back to the table, stopping Daniel, behind him, from getting one. Daniel was moved to protest he could get his own, and Jack merely grinned and said something about rank and privilege. The way the Colonel stood by Daniel, walked just behind, like a sheep dog after a lamb, shouted possession. Daniel’s body language was a lot harder to read. Uncertainty, maybe, unbalanced, awkward, but also, some nervous quality neither of their watchful companions could put a name to… 

“You’re sure that leg is okay?” Jack demanded, and both Sam and Teal’c held their breath, waiting for the blow-up. But there wasn’t one. Instead, Daniel merely smiled shyly at Jack over the rim of his coffee mug. 

Hel-lo. That nameless nervousness was suddenly revealed as An-tici-PA-tion.

“Yes, Jack. The General is making me take the crutches. But the Gate is actually inside the Temple. The leg will be just fine.”

“You’re due to leave in two hours, right? Maybe I should just come down to the gate room with you, have a word with Major Thomas before you go.”

Even Daniel, in this odd besotted state he seemed to be in, couldn’t let that go. “Jack. Lay off. I’m just going to survey an old ruin on an empty planet that hasn’t seen the Goa’uld in thousands of years, if ever. A baby-sitting assignment. Don’t do this, okay? I am not eight years old.”

Jack winced. “I know. Just… oh, get the hell out of here. You’ve got a briefing in five minutes.”

Once Daniel got up and left, Sam had to address the same question three times to Colonel O’Neill, who stared at the closed doors of the commissary.

“Oh sure, sure, go ahead. Look, I’m just going to… uh…”

“Talk to Major Thomas,” Sam guessed.

“Yeah. Carry on.”

Since Sam had asked if she could use a tactical nuclear weapon to blow up the Marduk Sphere (the only name they could think of for the mystery object Korra had given them) it was next thing to certain Colonel O’Neill hadn’t heard a single word Sam said.

But before he left, Jack stopped, and turned back to the table. ”Oh, and, Carter… that report for the Tok’ra meeting?”

Carter looked chagrinned. “There isn’t much there, sir. We’ve done everything we can think of to figure out what that sphere is, and got no reaction at all. I think maybe you’re right. It is a pig in a poke.”

Jack almost squirmed. “Oh, well… I’m sure Korra thought it was important, or he wouldn’t have stolen it in the first place. Something guarded that heavily… I probably would have figured the same. You can’t get it right all the time.”

Sam and Teal’c both blinked.

“Uh… yes sir. I mean no sir.”

“It was pretty decent of him to hand it over to us, instead of back to the Tok’ra.”

“Uh… yes sir.”

When he was gone, Sam took a moment to get the tongue pried off the roof of her mouth. “So… Daniel got to him, you think?”

“So it would seem.”

Sam wondered idly, “I wonder who had last night in Janet’s pool?”

“I did,” Teal’c said.

Sam laughed, and saluted him with her tea mug. “I’m glad I stayed out of it, then. Congratulations, Teal’c.”

Å 

Jack was in his office, going over Carter’s briefing notes for the meeting with the Tok’ra, trying desperately – and failing – to concentrate on something that wasn’t hot steamy sex with Daniel, when the phone rang. And he heard the last voice he expected. 

“Hello, Jack. How are you doing?” inquired a cheerful Harry Maybourne. Well, that killed the hard-on all right, faster than a bucket of ice-water. And Jack just knew that something big and bad was about to hit the fan at mach ten. Just hearing that voice made Jack’s flesh crawl.

“Hello, Harry. How’s retirement going?”

“Couldn’t be better, Jack. I hear you’ve got a new Ex-O under the mountain.”

Jack grimaced. “Where did you hear that, pray tell?”

“Oh, you know me. I get around. I also hear he’s an old acquaintance of Dr. Jackson’s. Or hasn’t Daniel recognized him? He’s changed a lot over the years, and he isn’t using the same name any more. But he’s still got the scar on his chin Daniel gave him.”

“Daniel recognized him.”

“So you know about the charges that were dropped? Nine counts of maiming, eleven of physical and seven of sexual abuse of minors…”

“We know.”

“Daniel didn’t tell you about any of that, did he?” guessed Harry Maybourne, ex-NID, ex-traitor, current fugitive and exile, sometime ally and sometime enemy of the SGC. “Did he tell you about the bodies they dug out of the back yard?”

“Damn…”

“The NID covered it up pretty thoroughly. I’m not sure Daniel would even know about that. But Marsh murdered at least two boys and buried their bodies in the back yard. There’s another kid even NID never found. That’s what they used to keep him in line all those years. In case you need ammunition, Jack, I think I can arrange for that evidence to turn up again, on the bodies we have, anyway. And there’s no statute of limitations on murder. The only thing that stopped him all those years ago was Daniel.” 

Jack could feel a shiver work up his back. That night, an eight-year-old Daniel and his friend Andy could have been two more bodies, buried where they would never be found… “What’s this about, Harry?”

“Just thought I’d give you a head’s up, Jack. You know how fond I am of everyone over there at Cheyenne Mountain. I don’t know what story Marsh used to get you to let him stay, but I think maybe you should re-think the situation. You know he’s still NID, of course?”

Jack winced. “Of course,” he replied as casually as he could. 

“I suppose Hammond thinks he can milk the situation, as long as he sees where the enemy is? Tell him not to bother. NID thinks they can control this guy, but they’re very wrong. He’s got an agenda they don’t know about, and it’s going to blow up in everyone’s face, unless you get rid of him, fast.”

“And just what is this agenda, since you seem to be in a talkative mood.”

“Believe me, Jack, I’m doing you a favor, no strings. You’ve got a time-bomb sitting in the Ex-O seat. He’s going to take a lot of you with him when he blows.”

“And you would know because…”

“Remember that little job I drafted you for? Why do you think I was so eager to get you to head up my off-world collections team, that I took the risk that you were a double agent? Which you were. Because their previous commander went over the line, that’s why. Way over. Even the line we drew, and you know how far that was.”

“Just tell me what happened, Harry.”

“Marsh happened. He commanded the team. He was sent to pick up some artifacts on a primitive world where the locals were still at the bow-and-arrow stage, but sitting on a completely intact Temple of the Ancients. The locals were holding some sort of festival. Marsh walked in with a P-90 and started shooting everything in sight. Men, women, children… destroyed half the items he had been sent to get. Only Marsh and his 2IC got out of there alive. I had the bastard recalled. But while he was under my command, he overheard me refer to Daniel. Came as a big surprise to him. After that he seemed obsessed, couldn’t stop talking about what he planned to do to the scrawny little four-eyed brat when he caught up to him. I’m serious, here, Jack. Marsh is out for Daniel’s blood. You want to keep your friend alive, you have to get rid of Marsh. And in the meantime, make sure Daniel doesn’t go anywhere without a heavy back-up. Marsh’s specialty in black ops was computers, ambushes and traps.”

Jack swore viciously under his breath. “Harry, just a thought. If I were to tell you that Daniel had gone to P3R909 with SG12…”

“Oh hell. Get them back. Right away. That massacre I told you about? It happened on P3R909. The locals won’t be very welcoming to any strangers coming through the Gate in military issue--”

Jack didn’t bother to say goodbye. He hung up and ran for the gate room.

“General, open a Gate to P3R909. We have to recall our team. Now.”

But it was already too late. An incoming worm-hole was just dialing through. SG12 straggled through, ragged, bloody, shocked, carrying their wounded and unconscious commander, Major Thomas. Jack checked each one as they came through, but there was no Daniel. The last through, airman Doherty, stood at the Gate and looked back, as if expecting one more. But the Gate dissolved. 

“No!” Doherty cried. “Dr. Jackson was right behind me! He said he was coming right behind me!”

Medics were called, and the security team stood down while Hammond and Jack raced to meet the members of SG12.

“What happened?” the General barked out.

“We were ambushed, sir,” Doherty replied, the only one who had the breath to reply. “The locals attacked us as soon as we entered the temple. We didn’t even know they were there until they surrounded us. They attacked with bows, arrows and P-90’s, sir. Major Thomas was the first to go down. We didn’t understand what they said, but Dr. Jackson did. He told us to put down our weapons, and we did, and they stopped shooting at us. He talked to the locals, talked them into letting us go. They even let us take our weapons with us. We opened the Gate… Dr. Jackson told us to go ahead, but he gave me his video-recorder. I should have guessed… He never meant to come back with us, did he?”

The General called and Jack returned to the control room, ordered a Gate opened to P3R909. Sam and Teal’c joined them there. Sam dived for a seat before a computer, while the tech sergeant initiated the dialing sequence.

“Sir,” Carter reported. “I’m trying to trace where the original sequence for P3R909 came from. It wasn’t from our compensation program, sir. It was entered from an external source. I thought the interval seemed too short…”

“Find out where it came from,” General Hammond ordered.

“Don’t bother,” said Jack. “Colonel Marsh entered it.” The General and Sam both stared at him, but this was not the time for explanations.

Once the Gate wormhole opened to allow communication to pass, the scene the off-world MALP sent back to the viewer was not a happy one. A large number of very angry-looking locals, holding a variety of weapons, ancient and modern, surrounded a man who had been forced to his knees, his jacket ripped off and his hands tied behind his back, blood on his face and his glasses missing.

“Dr. Jackson! Are you all right?” the General demanded.

“I’m fine, General,” Daniel replied stoically. The leader among the locals began a furious tirade that made Daniel flinch. They could hardly blame him. The people seemed to be working themselves into a frenzy. As prelude to what?

“General, this is Koffa, the leader of the Hesiu, Favored of the Lady. He says we are not the first strangers who have come through the Ring to steal and slaughter. He says we have desecrated the Temple of the Ancients, murdered one hundred seventeen of their people, and stolen their precious Icon. For this there must be payment.”

“But they let the rest of our people go,” the General said.

“I agreed to remain behind as hostage, if they would release the others.”

“And will they agree to let you go as well?”

“I hope so. I told them we might be able to return their stolen property. I figure it must have been Colonel Maybourne’s NID group who made the first raid. They left some P-90’s behind when they left.”

“Good guess,” Jack commented. “Suppose you describe the items they want.”

“It’s on the video recorder I gave to Doherty. They speak Abydonian… Teal’c should have no trouble understanding. I’m pretty sure they’ll trade me for the artifacts that were stolen. But… there is one more thing they want.”

“And what is that?”

“They want the man who led the first attack on them.”

“And just how are we supposed to find him?” demanded the General.

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll be all that hard. They describe him as a big man, older, with a bald head and a scar on his chin.”

“Colonel Marsh?”

“That’s my guess. They want someone to punish, General. If they can’t get the guilty man, they’ll make do with me.”

“I’ll get right on it, Dr. Jackson. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

“They’re not willing to wait long, General. One hour, they say.”

“One hour! That isn’t enough time!”

“Maybe I can stall them. Promise them some of their property will be returned.”

“I’ll do what I can, Dr. Jackson. Until then…”

Daniel smiled vaguely. “I know sir. I’ll… hang in there. But, General, I don’t want you to try any rescue. These people have suffered enough at our hands. I don’t want any more of them hurt because of us.”

“Daniel! For crying out loud, you don’t expect us to just leave you there!”

“Jack? No, I expect you to get the Hesiu what they want. This is one of those special cases, when I don’t need and don’t want a rescue. I mean it. Stay out.”

“God damn it, Daniel—“

“I mean it, Jack. No interventions. Let me handle this. Please. Trust me for once.”

The connection, and the Gate, folded after that.

Jack swore under his breath. What the hell made him think it would be any easier keeping Daniel in line after sex than it was before? Wishful thinking, obviously. He said, “General, I’ve already ordered a security team after Marsh.”

“You knew about this?”

“I got a call from Harry Maybourne, just a few minutes ago. He was worried about us. Daniel’s right, sir. Marsh led the NID off-world collections team that killed those people on 909. NID sent him to us as a plant, but he set up this whole thing, using them and us, to get back at Daniel.” 

Teal’c already had the videotape from Doherty, and a technician helped him load it into one of the playback machines in the console room. Sam called up the list of items currently housed at Area 51, which included what was left of the inventory they had confiscated from Harry’s off-world gang of thieves, that the SGC had been unable to return for one reason or another.

Teal’c listed, “One golden Vision Ball, companion of one that remains in the Temple of the Goddess. I believe that would be a small Goa’uld vo’cume device. One silver metal snake. I suspect that is a zat’ni’katel. One Ghost Keeper, a small, light ball with surface like a mirror. And the Icon.”

“Well,” Sam said, studying the computer screen that showed the catalogue. “We returned a lot of items to the Tolan, the Tok’ra, the Nox and the Asgard, but not Goa’uld devices. We’ve got a few extra zats and a vo’cume we could send back. And the mirror ball… that sounds an awful lot like the Marduk Sphere Korra gave us. Since we can’t get it to do anything but roll around anyway, I’m willing to give it up to get Daniel back. But what is this Icon, Teal’c?”

“Their leader describes it on the recording as the most precious of their sacred relics. Without it, they cannot invoke the rites of the dead, in the name of the Lady. Their leader says that without their relics returned, the one hundred and seventeen men, women and children Colonel Marsh murdered cannot be put to rest.” 

Jack and Sam both glanced at the big Jaffa. Jack said, “Easy, Teal’c. If – no, when – we get hold of Marsh, we’ll need him alive to trade for Daniel.”

“Sir…” Sam ventured. “Do you think it will be as easy as that? I mean… extradition of a Pentagon Colonel, without trial, no matter what he may have done, to an alien planet where we can be reasonably certain the penalty will be death… I’m sorry, sir. I just don’t see us being able to go along.”

“One crisis at a time, Major,” Jack recommended. “We haven’t actually got Marsh yet. And I wouldn’t know an Icon if I tripped over it. Is there a description of it on that tape?”

Teal’c replayed a pertinent piece of the video, his head tilted to one side as he concentrated on the excited, infuriated, garbled speech of the Hesiu leader. “It is as large as a man’s head, and made of gold.”

“Gold? As in… gold?”

“Solid gold. Yes.”

Sam glanced at her companions. “I’ll go through the catalogue again, but… sir, we didn’t retrieve any statues made of gold from Colonel Maybourne’s operation. I’m certain of that.”

The General looked up from a phone call. “Colonel Marsh was on the flight from Denver, but he never arrived in Washington D.C. He shook the security detail assigned to meet him. They didn’t report to me about it because he was no longer considered my jurisdiction. The NID don’t know where the hell he is.”

“Terrific,” Jack sighed. “So we’re short one gold head, and one mass murderer. I hope Daniel can talk his way out of this one, then, because it ain’t lookin’ good from this end.”

“Sir,” said a technician, holding a phone to Colonel O’Neill. “This is for you. He says he has to speak to you urgently, that he has information you’ll want. He says his name is Maybourne.”

Å 

The Hesiu were a remnant population of ancient Earth, of that Daniel was certain, dark skinned with black hair and eyes, wearing linen-like sarongs, using a variation of the Abydos-Egyptian-Goa’uld dialect that seemed to be almost a lingua franca out among the stars. But this place wasn’t a Goa’uld stronghold, either past or present, which was puzzling. The Lady they venerated wasn’t a Goa’uld. She wasn’t human in shape, the Hesiu priestess had told him, appalled and insulted he could even suggest such a thing. 

As soon as the Stargate event horizon dissipated, Daniel found out why the MALP, the UAV and the other detection probes sent to check out the area had failed to find the Hesiu. Koffa, their leader, touched his hand to a metal plaque on the Temple wall, and the stone flag floor of the entrance just… melted away, revealing a stairway down. The few hundreds of Hesiu present descended, a couple of guards grabbing Daniel to follow.

Oh yes, he thought as he saw an almost limitless flight of stairs in a very steep incline down, this is going to be good for the leg.

But they stopped on the third landing to enter an underground village. Stone walls of buff beige, lit by an unseen amber-tinged source, with stone flag floors, stone columns in Egyptian style, doors cut in a typical Egyptian fashion, straight sides narrow at the top, wide at the bottom. Painted upon the walls were Egyptian-like friezes of people worshipping at the Temple, what seemed to be a white cloud, hovering over a small gold statuette of the same figure.

A small, shining, white cloud? Oh, that just sounded way too familiar to Daniel. But these folks were no calm, serene monks, like the being who had served Oma Desala on Keb. They were human, passionate and very angry. Not serene, at all.

There seemed to be about six hundred people living here. They stood as he passed, solemn, grim-faced, hostile. He shouldn’t be surprised. He represented a disaster that had claimed one hundred seventeen of their friends and relatives – one in five or six of them, gunned down by Marsh/Willison. 

Daniel wasn’t in Sam’s league, but he could handle basic math when forced. The Major had set this up from the beginning. He played on Daniel’s sense of justice to worm his way into the SGC, the only way he could have set this little trap. God, wasn’t Jack going to be impossible, if… no, when, he got back.

He was given no opportunity to speak, hustled by the burly guards to the centre of the village square, and a stone obelisk. They stripped off his T-shirt, forced his back to the pillar, wrenched his arms behind him around it, and tied him there. The people gathered, shouting, screaming at him, and some of them picked up stones to throw. Daniel could only turn his head away from the larger projectiles. A couple of sharp edges slashed at his chest, blood weeping slowly from the cuts. The Hesiu leader, Koffa, a young man with a lot of fury in him, stood aside, letting his people have their way. Then someone threw a clay urn that smashed just above Daniel’s head, showering him with debris.

“Stop!” Daniel shouted. “Enough. My people will return your Icon and relics, but you must yield me up, alive. You’ll get nothing by killing me, not even satisfaction. I did not harm your people. I had nothing to do with it. The one who did is a renegade, outlaw, criminal, and we want to see him punished just as much as you do.”

“That is a lie,” Koffa challenged.

“No. It’s the truth. I have just as much reason to want this man punished as you do. He sent me here, so you would do what he could not – kill me. He is every bit as much my enemy as he is yours.”

Koffa conferred with a few of his people. Then he said, “If we had our Icon, and the other relics that were stolen, we could test the truth in your words. But without them… We must let actions speak. If your people do all as we have commanded in an hour, then we will know you have spoken the truth.”

“They may not be able to get everything. The enemy, the criminal, may have taken your relics for his own. And he is running from us.”

“Then if your people want you back, they must first find him.”

Å 

The Stargate opened on P3R909, land of the Hesiu, one hour later. Three figures emerged, carrying a chest. The Hesiu Chieftain, Koffa, came forward to meet them. Behind him, only a few of the Hesiu revealed themselves, but more than enough to keep custody of a bound Daniel Jackson.

“Daniel,” Colonel Jack O’Neill barked out, ignoring the chief. “You’re fine, right?”

“So far, Jack, yes.”

“Lost your shirt, eh? Playing strip poker?”

“No.”

Jack studied the captive archeologist. He looked healthy enough, although those bruises and cuts were new. After the close and intimate study he had given to that body last night, Jack could swear to it. The Hesiu had been a tad rough. They looked angry enough to get even rougher, and to see Daniel bound helpless and on his knees… A shudder of frustrated rage went through Jack, seeing his lover so vulnerable, in another’s possession. He had to get a handle on it, get control of it, or he would be no good to Daniel or himself. But, hell, he hated it when *any* of his team got themselves in a mess like this. 

Jack told the leader of the Hesiu, “You know, if you really want to disarm Daniel, put a gag in his mouth. That man is more dangerous tied up with his mouth open than most people I know would be with a loaded gun.”

Koffa was grim and un-amused. “Do you have our holy relics? And the Murderer?”

“We’re working on it. As a gesture of good faith, we have as much as we could get on short notice.”

Jack beckoned to his companions. Teal’c and Carter came down from the Stargate dais with the chest they carried. The lid thrown back, Koffa and two other Hesiu bent over the contents, lifting items out. 

“The Icon is not here,” said High Priestess Mala.

The third, Jiray the Bard, picked up the vo’cume and said, “This is not ours.” He found the Marduk Sphere, and with the merest dismissive glance said, “Nor is this. They seek to deceive us, Koffa.”

“Wait a minute,” Sam begged. “How do you know the… Sphere, is not yours?”

Koffa faced Jack in rage. “What is this deception? You think to trick us?”

“We meant no deception,” Sam tried to explain. “We don’t know what the Sphere is, or what it does. We thought one would be as good as another. And the vo’cume devices are interchangeable. We give you what we have.”

“Listen to them, Koffa,” Daniel said. “They’re acting in good faith.”

Koffa glanced back at Daniel, his eyes narrowed. “Perhaps they are, perhaps they are not. How am I to tell, if we do not have our relics? How do I know you are not just more devious devils than the last who came to us through the Ring?”

“Ask your Lady,” Daniel declared. “Ask Oma Desala. She will tell you that we are no threat to you, that we mean no harm to you.”

Mala stiffened upright at the name, but Koffa was not to be distracted. “Yes, you use Her name in perfect safety, when you know She cannot hear Her Chosen without our relics! You, Tau’ri, leave the land of the Hesiu. Do not seek to return until you have all our relics, and the Murderer. We shall know you have them when we hear the Ghost Keeper sing through the Vision Ball.”

Koffa pointed to the Temple altar. Upon it sat a vo’cume, dark and opaque.

“Ghost Keeper? What do you mean, it sings?” Sam pleaded desperately. 

But the guards were getting serious, and Jack said, “Stand down, Major. Teal’c, dial home. Daniel, we’re working on it. Hang in there.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jack,” Daniel assured him.

“And don’t be a smart-ass,” was Jack’s last recommendation as he followed Sam and Teal’c back through the Gate. “That’s my job.”

Daniel smiled, watching his friends disappear through the Gate. 

Well, Jack seemed to be handling this situation with his usual aplomb. Years of military training must help. But Daniel had long recognized that the more inventive his humor, the more stressed Colonel Jack O’Neill truly was. Daniel never doubted for an instant all of SG1 would do whatever they could, whatever it took, to get him out of this.

He just hoped to hell they wouldn’t have to. 

High Priestess Mala approached the prisoner. “How do you know the sacred Name of the Lady?”

“I’ve met her. On a planet called Keb. She’s a kind of friend of the family.”

Koffa strode up and kicked Daniel in the gut. “Enough. Liar. Devil. Friend of the Murderer. I do not trust you or your people. We have warned them, but they will deceive and trick and seek to betray us.”

“No. No. They won’t,” Daniel gasped out, bent over in pain. 

“Will you swear this? By your life?”

“By my life. Yes.”

“You trust them so much?”

“This much and more.” Daniel was surprised to realize he spoke the perfect truth. 

Koffa gave a harsh smile. “Then we will test them, your friends.” 

In a matter of moments, Daniel was tied across the opening of the Stargate, arms spread out and above him, stretched taut. 

“If the Stargate opens with an incoming wormhole…” Daniel began.

“The Ring of Water will drown and consume you. Yes. But you trust your friends, Daniel. So rest easy.”

Yes. Right. Easy for him to say, Daniel thought, swallowing on a dry throat, shifting his weight to the left to take the strain off his right leg, already aching. He did trust them, didn’t he?

Koffa and most of the other Hesiu drew away, but Mala and Jiray remained behind. Mala offered him water from a clay jug. He drank eagerly. “Thank you.”

Her dark eyes were troubled, doubtful. “You met the Lady? Truly?”

Daniel considered the Priestess thoughtfully. “Oma Desala has never claimed she was a goddess, has she? Even though that’s how you see her. She didn’t tell you to worship her.” 

Jiray sucked in a breath. “Perhaps… he does know.”

“She told you of the Great Path,” Daniel said, certain. “Each person has their own burdens to lay down, their own path to travel. She protects you. But she never asked you to worship her. She never claimed she was a goddess.”

“What else could She be?” Mala asked with a shrug. “And what else should we do but worship One with so much power, so much wisdom?”

“The Path you have to find is not hers, Mala. It’s your own. That’s what Oma would want for you.” Daniel let that sink in and said, “The Sphere that sings. You called it the Ghost Keeper. What is it, Jiray?”

“It shelters the spirits of the dead. There they may dwell for a time, until they ascend to the realm of the Lady, to abide with Her forever.”

It didn’t even occur to Daniel to doubt the truth of this statement. He had met too many strange beings and witnessed too many strange things to doubt.

Okay. If consciousness was expressed as electrical impulses within a physical body, theoretically it should be possible to capture those impulses in a device of some kind, at the time of death. He had experienced human consciousness swapped between bodies, seen his own copied to a robot, and Sam’s downloaded to a computer system. But, as Daniel understood it, ascension to Oma Desala’s plane of existence was something that could be done by anyone, at any time, and you didn’t need a device of any kind. But maybe that only applied to the living, physical, conscious beings capable of preparing themselves for the transformation. For those already dead… 

No wonder Sam couldn’t get her Sphere to work. No one had died near it.

Jiray continued, “Our Ghost Keeper holds the one hundred seventeen of our kindred who were murdered. When that other Tau’ri stole the Ghost Keeper and the Icon, he stole at once the souls of our dead, and the only way we have to call the Lady to set them free.”

Oh shit, Daniel thought, closing his eyes briefly. 

“Koffa keeps saying the relics can tell if I’m speaking the truth. What does he mean? That Oma Desala will come and judge me?”

“She will. She does. If we had the Icon to call Her. But the souls within the Ghost Keeper will also know. They hear. They watch. They know. They sing the Truth.”

“So… that’s why it sings?”

“The dead have voices,” Mala explained. “They sing.”

“The Ghost Keeper my friends have doesn’t make any noise.”

“Perhaps it is empty. Or perhaps its ghosts have been imprisoned a long time and sleep. Or perhaps they choose not to sing. If so, perhaps it would be best if your friends did not disturb them. It can be perilous. Sometimes the spirits of the dead held within the Keeper, helpless to escape, have little love for those who live and are free. The songs they sing can be ugly and dangerous.”

“Would your dead sing like that?”

Mala and Jiray exchanged glances. Mala replied, “Not if you have seen the Murderer, and he seems… unaffected. Perhaps they are afraid. The dead can fear, when they know their Murderer holds them, and the Icon, far from home and help. Perhaps they bide their time, waiting.”

“And when they stop waiting? They will… sing?”

Jiray nodded, saying, “Old songs and legends tell of a Ghost Keeper that killed all who heard it sing, until the Lady came and released the soul trapped within, released it to air, destroyed.”

Uh-oh, Daniel thought. The Marduk Sphere might hold anyone, imprisoned for any length of time. He could well imagine that anyone left inside would be well and truly pissed with the entire universe by now. Don’t wake them up, Sam… 

Å 

“He’s alive, General,” Jack reported on the gate ramp. 

Sam added, “Daniel thinks the Temple is one of Oma Desala’s holy places, like Keb. She’s the Lady the Hesiu worship.”

“Is that possible?” Hammond challenged. “I didn’t think Oma Desala played God, like the Goa’uld.”

“She does not,” Teal’c agreed.

“Daniel could be wrong, sir,” Jack suggested, only to see extremely skeptical looks turned his way. He shrugged. “Just a thought.”

“Well, this is good news, isn’t it?” Hammond went on. “She’s a friend, of sorts, isn’t she?”

Sam glanced at her companions, and they all let her break the bad news. “The Hesiu can only contact their Lady, whoever she is, with the relics that were stolen, sir. She can’t help if she doesn’t know what’s going on, even if she wanted to, which… isn’t certain. And the Hesiu knew immediately the vo’cume and Marduk Sphere weren’t theirs. They said the Sphere sings, sir.”

“Ours hasn’t made any sound, has it?”

“Not one, sir. No. But… perhaps it has to be in the right location, under the right conditions. The Hesiu leader said if we found their Sphere and their vo’cume, it would sing, and the companion vo’cume in the Temple would pick it up. ”

“Well. We still need to locate Marsh, then, and hope to God he’s got the other artifacts with him. It’s time for you to meet your… contact. Better get ready.” 

Å 

An hour later, and a nondescript white panel van drove into Colorado Springs, obeying all traffic laws and speed limits. Major Samantha Carter drove, Teal’c riding shot-gun, while Colonel Jack O’Neill and Harry Maybourne sat in back. 

Jack shook his head. “Of course you realize, if it wasn’t for Daniel, I would be shooting you right now.” 

Harry grinned. “Aw, come on, Jack. You know you love me. And this time, your aims and mine are exactly the same. We both want John Willison, AKA Quentin Marsh, strung up by his balls.”

Jack refused to be drawn. “So where is he.”

“He got off the Denver flight in Chicago, changed planes and doubled right back here. He’s got an apartment here in town.”

“And you know this because…”

“I hate his guts, of course. I hold him personally responsible for blowing our sweet little off-world collections scam to hell. He left the door open for you.”

“Well don’t expect me to thank him, not even for that.”

“Oh, I don’t. I’ve made it my business to keep tabs on Marsh. I always know exactly where he is and what he’s up to.”

Jack began to steam. ”So how come I only got your wake-up call this morning?”

“He got away from me. His expertise—“

“Computers, ambushes and traps.”

“Exactly. He’s very, very good. He slipped past me. So as soon as I realized he’d made my surveillance, I had to ask myself if this was a trap. As soon as I was sure it wasn’t, or at least, wasn’t for me, I called you.”

"Just a little too late.”

Sam and Teal’c exchanged glances.

Sam commented, “This sounds personal between you and Colonel Marsh.”

“It is, Sam. Very.”

“Well just so you know, we need him alive.”

“Oh, I’ll remember.” 

Which wasn’t the most reassuring thing Maybourne could have said.

“Harry,” Jack said quietly. “You screw this up in any way, and I will shoot you. Once. Through the heart. No second chances, no explanations, no warnings, no appeals. Remember that, too.”

Harry smiled wide. “I will. Turn right here. His apartment is in the next block. We don’t want to blow this by letting him know we’re on our way.”

“You know he’s home?”

“I’m reasonably sure.”

“Harry—“

“I don’t have the luxury of an NID surveillance team any more, Jack. He was there last time I was able to check. Then I went to meet you. He could have gone out for milk, pizza, beer, a movie… and there’s only one way to be sure.”

“Go in,” Sam finished.

“That’s right.”

Harry Maybourne, scum-sucking son-of-a-bitch though he might be, had done his preparation. He had an electronic door-opener for the apartment building underground parking lot, and a skeleton key for the lock to the basement elevator lobby. They met no one on the way up, luckily, since four people armed to the teeth, three in military fatigues, *might* have caused comment. 

On a weekday morning, most of the apartments were empty.

Not the one at the end of the hall.

Maybourne hung back behind Sam to let Jack and Teal’c take point on either side of the door. At Jack’s hand signal, they burst in, Jack going in low, Teal’c high.

Marsh stood at the door of the kitchen in fatigue pants and dark t-shirt, a plate of sandwiches in his hands. The sudden noise made him freeze. He dropped the food to reach for a gun in the holster under his arm-pit, but he was already too late. Jack tackled him. They crashed to the tile kitchen floor. Teal’c rushed in, rolled Marsh to his back, and dropped his considerable bulk onto the man’s chest. Jack kicked the gun out of Marsh’s hand. A little harder than strictly necessary, perhaps, but no one else seemed to notice.

“You are *so* busted,” Jack told him with savage satisfaction.

Sam and Harry peered in, both a little disgruntled that there was no need for them to engage in physical contact with the prisoner. Harry made the most subtle of movements, but not subtle enough. Sam’s hand gripped the barrel of Maybourne’s gun and twisted it out of his grasp. She gave him a cold glance, but he only smiled and shrugged.

“Carter,” Jack snapped out. “See if there’s anything around here that might be an Icon, will you?”

She didn’t have far to look. Against the back of the living room sofa was a big brass-bound steamer trunk. She lifted the unlocked lid and knew she had found just about everything the Hesiu had lost – and then some. The trunk was stuffed with booty, not unlike a pirate treasure chest. All it needed was a skeleton to guard it, and a bottle of rum.

“Got it, sir. Icon, zats, Marduk Sphere… I think it’s all here.”

“Good. Call Base. Hammond can open a wormhole and call through to P3R909, tell them we’ve got their stuff.” Then maybe they’d lay off Daniel until Jack could get him out of there.

Sam picked up the phone, and dialed a number she knew well. But because this was not a secure line, she was careful what she said. “Base, this is SG1.”

“Report, Major.”

“We have all the packages, safe and sound, ready to deliver.”

“Come on in. We’ll send through a message to the owners, tell them their packages are on the way.”

“Thanks, Base. Our ETA is half an hour.” 

Å 

High Priestess Mala tended to hover. That seemed encouraging to Daniel. She was obviously troubled that he knew Oma, might, therefore, be someone they shouldn’t harm. Also encouraging. 

Jiray the Bard stood near, had already shouted down several of his people who had come to harass the prisoner, strung helpless over the Stargate opening. Right now, he seemed lost in thought. Jiray was an archeologist at heart, just like Daniel. Curious about mysteries, devoted to the truth, preserver of the past, open, at least, to suggestion. Daniel could work with that, too. 

But Koffa couldn’t get past his rage and pain, and Koffa was in charge.

Daniel ventured, “My people will return your relics, if they can find them. We would do that anyway, whether you hold me hostage or not.”

“And the Murderer?” Koffa demanded. “What of him?”

Daniel sighed. “We have laws, Koffa. Our people – all of our people – are entitled to certain rights, freedoms and responsibilities under the law. Marsh has violated one of our most important ones, and our law demands he be made to pay, if it can be proved.”

“Proved? We all saw it!” the furious leader shouted.

“And that is proof. But our laws say he has the right to argue his side, and face his accusers.” Which might get very complicated, Daniel thought, all things considered. But he couldn’t let these people think the SGC would just hand Marsh over. Daniel was pretty sure they wouldn’t, couldn’t.

“He has wronged us. It is our right to punish him!”

“He has wronged me, too. And I tried to take vengeance on him myself, a long time ago. I thought I killed him. I thought I killed another human being. That one act has haunted me all of my life. No matter where I went, what I did, it followed me, darkened my happiest moments, tainted my best actions. Because I knew nothing I could ever do would balance the taking of a life – any life, even his. And I knew when it came my turn to die, the song I would sing would be his song, not mine. That he would take my voice just as I had taken his.”

“He killed my wife!” Koffa screamed, shuddering with the force of his grief. “My wife and our unborn child, my mother and father, friends, kindred… he killed so many!” The young man fell to his knees, wailing into the hands clutching at his face. Mala went to his side to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. Quietly, the Hesiu began to gather in the square between the Stargate and the Temple.

“I know what that loss is like, Koffa. I know the helplessness, the pain, the rage you feel. I have felt it too, all of it. But revenge won’t help. Killing the Major won’t bring your loved ones back.”

“He will kill again,” Jiray said. “His kind prey on the weak and unsuspecting.”

Daniel winced, not liking to think ‘weak and unsuspecting’ might describe him. “Yes. He must be stopped and he will be. But you’ve made him a burden you will never be able to lay down, a burden that will keep you from the Path your Lady hopes you will walk. He is a shadow that blocks out the life and love and happiness you can still have ahead of you. Don’t let him take those things from you, too. Don’t allow his ghost to haunt you the way it has haunted me.”

Koffa lifted his head slowly, to meet Daniel’s eyes, more anguish than anger in him now. He was listening, at least. All Daniel needed was a little more time…

Suddenly, the Stargate shivered, rumbled. The inner ring began to spin, and the first chevron lit up and locked. An incoming wormhole was about to form.

“Oh shit,” muttered Daniel. Useless as it was, he strained at the ropes that held him in place. 

Koffa raised his head, staring. “You said they would not attack! You lied!”

“No!” Daniel denied. “Maybe they have your relics! Maybe they just want to talk, make sure I’m okay—“

The second chevron locked…

“You lie! They come to slaughter us again!”

“No, Koffa, he is not so evil,” Mala protested. “I can feel it.”

The third chevron locked…

“If I die,” Daniel cried out desperately, watching the inner ring spin with frightening inevitability, “you’ll never get a second chance to take it back. If you find I’ve told you the truth, it will be too late. Please, Koffa, give me a second chance! Give yourself one!”

The fourth chevron locked…

Å 

Teal’c and Jack dragged Marsh to his feet and hustled him out to the living room, forcing him to kneel with his arms wrenched behind him for the plastic binding strips to pinion his wrists together.

Sam bent over the steamer trunk. “Here’s all the stuff Colonel Marsh stole, sir. More stuff than is on the 909 list.” Sam looked up at Maybourne. “He was robbing you the whole time he worked for you, wasn’t he?” 

Harry just stared at Marsh, a strange, hungry look on his face. 

Sam lifted the items she needed out of the trunk. “Three zat guns. Another Marduk Sphere. Far as I can tell, this one is exactly like ours. And…”

Jack and Teal’c looked up as Sam gingerly lifted out a golden statue. It was just under a foot high, and if it represented anything specific, none of them knew what it might be. 

Teal’c said, “It resembles the art of Henry Moore.”

Everyone turned to stare at the Jaffa.

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “Cassandra is studying art appreciation. She gave me several books on the subject of modern art.”

“Just looks like an Icon to me,” Jack shrugged. “Is that everything on our list, Major?” Jack demanded, and gave Marsh a gratuitous kick once he had snapped the strips in place.

“All except the vo’cume,” Marsh himself supplied, surprisingly cheerful. So cheerful Jack itched to kick him again. Marsh tested his bleeding mouth with his tongue. “It’s in the bedroom. I was just watching a show you should all be real interested in.”

Jack gave Sam the nod. She packed the items all carefully away in the trunk again, shutting the lid, then got up and went into the bedroom.

“Oh my God! Sir, call Base! Tell them to stop!”

Marsh began laughing.

Harry already had the phone in his hand dialing as Sam rushed back to them, holding an object about the size of a basketball in her hands. Inside the swirling amber-tinted mists of the vo’cume, they could see the Stargate on P3R909. An incoming dialing sequence had begun, chevrons alight, the inner ring spinning. But bound spread eagle across the centre of the Gate, was Daniel. He strained against the ropes and shouted urgently to the crowd around him, but the vo’cume allowed only sight, no sound. 

“Stop the dialing!” Harry shouted into the telephone receiver.

Jack grabbed the phone. “This is Colonel Jack O’Neill. Stop the dialing sequence to P3R909 now. Now, goddamn it, now! They’ve got Daniel strung across the Gate! Stop it now!”

The vo’cume in Sam’s hands received transmission from the companion device still in the Temple on 909. Suddenly, just as the fourth chevron locked, one of the natives in the crowd awaiting the execution stepped in the way. More of them crowded in and around, so all the vo’cume revealed was the top half of the Stargate. It was enough to show them the eruption of blue and white froth of an incoming wormhole established. Anything in its path would have been vaporized.

The two ends of rope snapped back and dangled slowly to each side of the Gate, the ends smoking. Within the circle, a quiet, beautiful shimmer of blue glowed for a moment, clearly seen over the heads of the crowd, then dissipated. 

The vo’cume went dead and dark. Sam put it down on the trunk.

Marsh was still laughing. It was the only sound, until a garbled voice could be heard over the telephone receiver in Jack’s slackened hand. He glanced absently at it, then slowly, deliberately, placed it back in the cradle. He turned cold eyes on Marsh, still sitting on the floor, blood trickling from the corner of his grinning mouth. With the same, slow deliberation, Jack unbuckled his side-arm holster and drew his gun.

“Sir,” said Sam, stepping into his line of fire. Tears streamed from her eyes, but her chin was firm, and she stood her ground even in the face of Jack’s eyes, colder than ice, colder than dead, empty space. “No, sir. You can’t.”

“Yes, I think I can. No way to miss at this range.”

“No sir.”

“Why not.”

“Because of Daniel.”

“Daniel’s why I’m going to do it.”

“No, sir. He would tell you no. You know he would.”

“Damn it, Carter… why not! You don’t think Marsh deserves it? For Daniel? For three nameless kids? For one hundred seventeen innocents on 909? For God knows how many others he’s killed and tortured?”

“What he deserves is justice, sir, not vengeance. Because of Daniel, three dead children and those one hundred seventeen on 909. If it was just Daniel… but it isn’t, and even if it were, he would still deserve justice. Those people on P3R909 are waiting. They have dead to bury. They need this. They need him.”

Slowly, Jack lowered his weapon and put it away. He looked down at Marsh. “When they string *you* across the Stargate, I’m going to be the one dialing in. I can promise you that.”

Å 

The fifth chevron locked…

Daniel dragged his eyes off the spinning Stargate to focus on the only one who mattered right now. “Don’t do this, Koffa. Whatever the Major did to you, I’m innocent. Killing me will poison your life. Everything you ever do, every happy moment you ever have, everyone you ever try to love. Believe me, I know.”

Koffa looked up, into Daniel’s eyes.

“Very well. Release him.”

The sixth chevron locked…

Jiray and Mala raced to the dais, each drawing a knife to snap the cords binding Daniel’s wrists. The ropes snapped back. Daniel dived down the steps even as Mala and Jiray leaped aside.

The seventh chevron locked.

The Stargate vortex exploded out of the ring. But as soon as it formed, the event horizon vanished. No one came through, not even a message over the MALP.

Daniel was as puzzled as any of the Hesiu.

“I guess it was a wrong number,” he suggested weakly, still panting, only now realizing just how hard his right knee had hit the stone stair. Damn it, why couldn’t it be the left leg, just *once*?

Å 

The panel van rolled past the front gate of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, into the tunnel up to the facility entrance. Jack and Harry went to sign in with the guard while Teal’c and Sam took hold of their prisoner to lift him out. Teal’c reclaimed his staff weapon from the booth while Sam led Marsh to the elevator. The whole operation was handled in silence, except for the fewest possible required words to Base security. There was nothing, after all, to be said. 

But as Sam pressed the elevator call button, Marsh made a sudden feint, reaching for her side-arm. Sam instantly lashed out with her foot to hammer him hard in the gut. He went down like a sack of potatoes, while the woman stood over him, her gray eyes flashing.

“Oh please,” she begged him with a snarl in her voice, ”do that again.” 

Jack and Harry arrived, carrying the trunk between them, and Jack grinned, showing a lot of sharp, white teeth. “Feels good, eh, Carter? Very… satisfying. Just not terminal enough.”

Marsh behaved himself all the way down to Level 28, wheezing slightly and unable to straighten up.

An equally grim and silent group awaited them in the briefing room. General Hammond sat in his customary chair at the head of the oval table. A stranger was also seated there, wearing JAG insignia.

“I am told,” General Hammond announced, once Marsh’s restraints had been cut and everyone was seated, “that it is illegal for us to extradite Colonel Marsh to the custody of the Hesiu.”

“Son of a bitch!” Jack swore. “He just killed Daniel, sir!”

Marsh laughed in their faces. “You think that makes any difference? I’ve got rights. You can’t just throw me through the Gate. There’s no court on the planet will extradite me to an alien world for execution without trial. Even if those yokels on 909 had anything we need or want, and they don’t. No, Colonel O’Neill, you’ve blown it. I’m going to walk, free and clear. Too bad about your little buddy. He had a sweet little ass, didn’t he?”

A big hand shot out to grip Marsh’s neck. It wasn’t Jack’s. Teal’c’s face showed no emotion as he slowly throttled the man before him. It took three SF’s to force him to let go, when they got around to it, and then only at the protest from the JAG lieutenant and finally Hammond’s grudging order.

“You will not be walking free and clear anywhere, Colonel. We have to turn Colonel Marsh over to this gentleman for court-martial. Thanks to Mr. Maybourne,” and the General was careful to give the civilian salutation, ”we have been supplied with ample evidence of murder against Colonel Marsh in the death of two young boys over thirty years ago. That will be more than enough to put him in military prison for the rest of his life.”

“And the Hesiu, sir?” Sam asked.

General Hammond shook his head. “We will give them every assurance that Colonel Marsh will be prosecuted to the limit of our laws. Our laws. Even if Dr. Jackson were still alive, we could do nothing else.”

Marsh laughed at the best joke he had ever heard.

“Dismissed,” the General gritted out. “Lieutenant, get your prisoner out of here before I strangle him myself. And don’t lose him.”

Just then, the Stargate began to spin with an incoming wormhole. Since no one was due and there was no valid GDO code coming through to tell them who might be trying to reach Earth, the iris remained closed. An armed security team scrambled to take up guard positions, in case the iris was breached. 

The wormhole opened. A message came through, on the MALP frequency from 909. And when video came up…

“Dr. Jackson calling the SGC. Can you read me? Anyone there?”

“Dr. Jackson!” General Hammond answered. While no one actually laughed, cried or cheered… the funeral atmosphere suddenly lifted to be replaced by grins on every face. Every face but Marsh’s, flanked by SF’s and his JAG escort, stopping in his tracks and turning a stony face to the control room.

The General swallowed and said, “We thought… Are you all right, Dr. Jackson?”

“I’m fine, sir. Really. The Hesiu have released me, but they’ve requested I stay until their property is returned, and I’ve agreed. Sir, these relics are vitally important to them. Any word how the recovery is going?”

The shock of relief almost sent Jack reeling. 

“No…” Marsh gasped. “He’s dead! We saw it! You saw it! Damn it, he’s dead!”

“You’re an idiot, Marsh,” Jack told him. “You should know better than anyone. Daniel’s a lot harder to kill than he looks.”

“SG1 has the artifacts, Dr. Jackson,” General Hammond informed with a wide smile. “They’ll be on their way to return them within the hour.”

“That’s good, sir. Oh, and I have some information about the Marduk Sphere. It’s called a Ghost Keeper, and it can be very dangerous under certain circumstances… better leave it alone for now. And sir, the Hesiu are still a little nervous about us. Understandably, I think. They have some protocols they would like us to agree to before anyone comes through…”

Å 

Jack and Teal’c carried the big trunk through the Gate after Sam. Daniel met them at the bottom of the stairs. Sam cast military professionalism to the winds and wrapped Daniel in a warm hug. “It’s good to see you, Daniel.”

He frowned, puzzled. “Sam? Something wrong?”

“I am glad to see you also, Danieljackson,” said Teal’c, clasping Daniel’s fore-arm with his own, with as soppy a smile as would fit on the big Jaffa’s face. Daniel had seen nothing like it since he was declared dead the last time.

“Guys? What’s up?”

“Nothing, Daniel,” Jack answered firmly, rigidly clinging to cold duty by his fingernails.

“Jack?”

“Daniel?”

“Is something wrong? I wasn’t in *that* much trouble, you know,” the archeologist commented, puzzled by the over-reaction of his teammates to his safe return to them. After all, it had been a pretty routine “captured-threatened-made friends with the locals” mission.

Sam and Teal’c both opened their mouths to explain when Jack held up a hand. “Later,” he promised. 

Daniel could only shrug.

Sam lifted the lid on the trunk they had brought, then she, Jack and Teal’c retreated to the side, to watch and wait, but not interfere.

Daniel went to join the Hesiu leaders, Jiray on one side, Koffa on the other, Mala waiting at the Temple altar. Together, the three men approached the trunk. Koffa took out the vo’cume. Jiray took the Ghost Keeper in his hands. And Daniel lifted out the Icon. Once all three relics had been raised to show the Hesiu, there was a cheer from the crowd gathered in the square. So it wasn’t until the noise died that the soft, high-pitched singing could be heard, coming from the mirror-bright object in their Bard’s hands. It grew louder, no words, just a resonance, keening through them. Not unpleasant, but… strange. 

Jack stiffened and clutched at a weapon he didn’t actually have, because he had been told not to bring one. Teal’c’s fists flexed and wrapped, too, as the two warriors glanced at each other, both knowing that coming unarmed had been a bad idea… 

“Major?” Jack asked. “What’s it doing?”

Sam’s eyes opened wide. “Just… making noise, sir.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t think so, sir. Not for the moment. Certain frequencies of sound can be destructive, but… I think it’s just glad to be home.”

When the ball reached a certain pitch, the vo’cumes, the one Koffa bore and the one on the altar, also flared alive, tossing reception back and forth. Daniel waited at the entrance to the Temple until Jiray and Koffa had set their burdens upon the altar. Then Mala nodded for him to come forward with the last sacred relic. 

Å 

Colonel Quentin Marsh, once known as Major John Willison, had kept quiet, subdued, malleable, while he was passed to the custody of the SF’s who had come with the JAG lieutenant, and all three gave him escort out of the Mountain. But once he found himself in a corridor with only the military lawyer and two guards anywhere in sight… 

People tended to forget that an old man could still be dangerous. That he might not be as strong or as fast as the much younger men around him, but he had a lifetime in black ops to get sneaky, and dirty. In moments all three men were lying still on the corridor floor. Marsh picked up a P-90 and gave the JAG lawyer a spiteful extra kick. 

Then he put the knowledge he had taken great care to gain as Ex-O of the SGC to good use. He didn’t need to dare the heavily-guarded console room in order to gain access to the Gate dialing program. His expertise, after all, was in computers, ambushes and traps. He could do everything he needed from another computer he had set up before he left, in a deserted storeroom on level twenty-seven, connected with a dedicated line and an override switch. 

Sometimes, he reflected with a wolfish grin, his fore-thought amazed even him. 

Alarms cut abruptly through the base, but it didn’t trouble Marsh. He had a goal. That goddamned sniveling little brat had escaped him, bested him, made a fool of him for the last fucking time. This time he would die, and it wouldn’t be by proxy. Just as well. Marsh had dreamed of getting his own bare hands on that soft, white throat for the past thirty years. He didn’t know how he had managed to resist the urge this past week, so close and yet so far… except that there had not been one instant, save for the first interview in his office, when Danny was ever alone with him, unwatched or unguarded. And even then, Marsh had known his friends were just outside the door, waiting. That had been the first parameter of the trap he had built. To separate Danny from his many body-guards. Get him alone, and vulnerable. 

When Marsh had initiated the dialing program for P3R909, he took the wet-wall access duct down to twenty-eight, to come out in corridor C-2.

Å 

“Then where the hell is it coming from?” General Hammond demanded of the tech sergeant on duty in the Control room.

“No way to know, sir.”

“Well shut it down. Maybourne, call security, get a team in there.”

Maybourne shook his head. “Can’t, General. All personnel are scrambling to re-capture the prisoner.”

“I can’t shut the Gate down, General,” the tech admitted.

All three watched, helpless, as Marsh entered the gate room. The fourth chevron locked, and there was no longer any doubt where the Colonel intended to go. 

“He’s getting away!” Maybourne said.

“The hell he will!” Hammond declared wrathfully, and charged down the stairs, Harry just behind.

“Stop right there, Colonel!” Hammond demanded, striding up to confront his ex-Ex-O. “The only way you leave this facility is over my dead body!”

“I can live with that,” Marsh retorted coolly, aiming the P-90. Maybourne leaped at him and brought him down before he could fire, rolling around on the gantry, frighteningly close when the vortex was almost due to form. 

Hammond kicked the P-90 out of the way, then grabbed Maybourne by the collar and dragged him away. Then he went in for Marsh. Sheer fury gave him strength to pull Marsh down off the gantry, upright on his feet, before hauling off and slamming a fist hard into the man’s face.

The dialing sequence completed. Hammond ducked to avoid the vortex. And that moment of inattention was enough for Marsh to stick out a leg, trip the General, and dive for the discarded P-90. 

He ran up the gantry, turned to wipe blood from his broken nose, grin and wave, then stepped through the open Stargate.

Å 

When the Stargate opened one more time, the Hesiu stopped their ceremonies, and everyone turned to watch. Jack, Teal’c and Sam approached, puzzled, wondering who might be coming through. 

No one was prepared for a ghost of past horrors. Marsh swept the scene with his eyes, lifting his weapon, and spotting Daniel, standing frozen at the entrance of the Temple. A perfect target…

General Hammond suddenly charged out of the Gate, and tackled the man from behind, both of them slamming into the stone stairs. And behind Hammond came Harry Maybourne.

“By God, you son of a bitch, you will pay!” the General promised.

Marsh continued to struggle, as more and more people, Hesiu, Tau’ri and Jaffa, piled on top of him. At last, it was the Hesiu guards who took him in hand, pinning him to the steps of the Stargate as Daniel and Koffa approached.

The Hesiu leader’s face was a mask of conflict, uncertain which way to turn. Daniel knew only too well what he was going through. 

“Koffa. We haven’t completed the ceremony. The Icon is not yet returned to its place. What is more important here? That evil man there, or your family and friends, waiting for release?”

For a moment, it seemed as if Koffa didn’t hear. Couldn’t hear. Then he looked up at Daniel, and nodded.

“Got yourself another boyfriend, Danny?” gasped out Marsh, still straining in the angry, tight grip of many hands. “Does he do for you what I used to?”

Daniel ignored the taunts, following Koffa back to the Temple.

He set the Icon in place on the altar, between vo’cumes and Ghost Keeper. 

The song of the Ghost Keeper emerged, along with a gray mist. Not one of Oma Desala’s kind, of that Daniel was sure. And this didn’t center on the Icon, but around the polished reflective surface of the Keeper. Its denizens were escaping. The Hesiu all fell back, alarmed. 

“This has never happened before,” Mala whispered in awe.

Jiray said, “There have never been so many spirits within before, all united in one fate, from one man, in one vicious, violent act.”

The cloud grew, spread, thinning in places, thicker in others, a coherent web of mist. Everywhere it stretched and flowed, the people retreated. Daniel and Jiray, alone of anyone, ventured nearer, tried to touch it, speak to it, reach it. But though it drifted from side to side, it soon became clear that it had a goal.

Colonel Marsh.

He blinked at the silent ominous thing. His guards dared not hold him when the cloud hovered over them.

Even in that moment, with so strange a phenomenon menacingly close, Marsh had only one thought on his mind. With a vicious twist, he lunged for the nearest guard, and took the P-90 from his grasp. He stood, aimed it dead at Daniel, a grimace of rage and hatred on his face and a cry in his throat.

But before he could pull the trigger even once, the cloud settled over him, and a keening wail came, not from any human throat, as the P-90 clattered to the stone steps. Only an outline of a man could be seen within the mist, arching back, arms outstretched, head thrown back.

The wail grew higher, louder, painful to hear.

And then it was over, blessed silence so dense, it seemed like deafness to all those present. The figure within the gray mist dropped to the stone flag steps. The cloud was sucked back into the Ghost Keeper.

Sam made to approach the body, to check for life-signs, but Jiray ran to stop her. “No. Stand back. You must not interfere. Watch.”

As if there were a current of air between the body and the Ghost Keeper, an almost visible wisp of smoke rose from Marsh, twisted, aimed, heading toward the altar. But then the Ghost Keeper song rose, shrill and ululating, and the current scattered, eddied, denied the thin, ragged tendrils a way to the Keeper. And gradually, the smoke dissipated and vanished. 

“Even among the dead, he can have no place. His very ghost is exiled to oblivion,” Jiray announced. 

Mala collected herself, and placed her hands on the Icon, shutting her eyes and lifting her face to the sky. All the Hesiu followed her example, a strangely silent community. Only Jiray sang now, words Daniel understood from ancient texts, and Teal’c from ceremonies he had taken part in, to bury the dead. The Ghost Keeper sang soft harmony beneath his voice.

Hammond and Maybourne moved slowly to join Jack, Sam and Teal’c.

“Any idea what just happened?” Hammond asked, and he looked to Sam. 

Sam could only shrug, as bewildered as the rest. “Sir… unless Daniel is right, and the actual souls of the dead are held inside that sphere… and they just came out in order to punish the man who murdered them… I have no idea what any of this means.” 

Then the Stargate came alive one more time. But it did not spin as usual. An event horizon simply formed, and through it came the glowing white form of Oma Desala, or one of her kind. The being drifted toward the altar, surrounding the Ghost Keeper, taking the gray mist within it. It paused to swirl about each of the Hesiu leaders, only to pass on. 

Then it came to Daniel. For a moment, a face and a hand coalesced within the brightness, and it reached to caress Daniel’s cheek. Then it rose, and returned to the Stargate. Leaving as it had come, though that was supposed to be impossible. A wormhole forming between two Stargate rings went only one way, not two. Unless you were Oma Desala.

Daniel spoke to the Hesiu leaders, then came to join his friends. He seemed a little startled to see Harry Maybourne, but didn’t say anything.

“Dr. Jackson? Care to explain any of this?”

“Um… it’s a… funeral, General. The Hesiu dead are now at rest. I think it’s time we went home, and left them to mourn in peace.”

He dialed Earth’s address.

General Hammond told Harry, “You’ve got a twenty-four hour head start, Maybourne, before I report seeing you to my superiors. Use the time wisely.” Then they both left through the Stargate.

Jack stood by, his mouth twisted in a sour expression as the Hesiu triumvirate approached Daniel once more.

Mala beamed, a radiantly beautiful woman (not unlike Daniel’s beloved lost wife Sha’re), and she leaned in to kiss Daniel tenderly on the cheek. “For the safe return of our Icon, I thank you.”

“Daniel! Come on. Gotta go,” Jack barked out.

“In a minute, Jack.”

Then it was the turn of the lithe and handsome Jiray, the Hesiu scholar. Daniel’s kind of guy, Jack thought resentfully. He, too, leaned close to caress Daniel’s cheek with his lips. “For the safe return of our dead, I thank you.”

Then the darkly passionate Koffa took Daniel by his naked shoulders and pulled him into a third cheek-kiss. “For the peace of our living, I thank you. In your honor, Daniel, the Tau’ri shall always be welcome here.”

Jack wasn’t sure he didn’t prefer it when these folks had wanted Daniel’s head. Or, no, he didn’t mean that, he meant his parts… parts of Daniel they had no damn business going after because they were now Jack’s… Aw hell. He was stuck with that image of going after head now, and here he was, still on duty, on the wrong side of the Stargate. 

“Thank you, Koffa, Mala, Jiray,” declared the blissfully unaware archeologist. “I hope our peoples will long be friends.”

“Yeah yeah, time to go,” Jack announced with a growl barely hidden in his words, and a fulminating glare at the other as he took possession of Daniel’s shoulder himself to twist him around in the correct direction. “And you’re limping again!”

“Oh, well, I was standing on the leg a little more than I should.”

“Ya think? Infirmary, the second we get back. You have to get those cuts and bruises looked after. And what the hell was all that kissing about?”

“The Hesiu are grateful, Jack.”

“I notice we didn’t get any thanks,” Sam observed, only just suppressing a grin that might have guaranteed her a reprimand from the fuming Colonel.

“It was, in fact, our efforts that obtained the stolen items for the Hesiu,” Teal’c noted with one eloquently lifted eyebrow.

“Well, they know me a little better.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Daniel!” Jack exploded. “Let me buy you a bus ticket, so you can get to the same zip code as a clue! They were coming on to you!”

”What, all three of them? They weren’t! What’s wrong with you, anyway?”

Whatever Jack answered was swallowed up when he grabbed Daniel and dragged him through the Stargate event horizon.

Å 

Dr. Fraiser finished tying the tensor bandage around Daniel’s badly bruised knee, and picked up a bottle of antiseptic.

“Sorry Teal’c, can’t make it to kel-no-reem this afternoon,” Daniel said, sitting on the infirmary cot, wincing as Dr. Fraiser treated his cuts with one of her nasty stinging concoctions. Then he considered something less subtle in the way of a hint was required, and prodded the Jaffa in the leg with his toe.

Teal’c cleared his throat – the first time any of them had ever heard him do so. They were all staring as he said, “Major Carter. Perhaps you would like to attempt kel-no-reem? It can be very relaxing.”

“Uh, I don’t know, Teal’c, the Tok’ra summit is— Ow!“

“Oh, sorry, was that me?” Janet asked.

Sam gave her a long look, then glanced back at Teal’c, her cheeks developing a glowing rosy blush, making her blue-gray eyes sparkle. “Actually, Teal’c, I’d love to join you for kel-no-reem.”

As the pair of them left the infirmary, Jack grumbled, “Thanks, Doc. If you hadn’t forced the issue, Carter could have kept him going another three months, easy. I’m out of the pool now.”

“A purely altruistic gesture, Colonel. I had December thirty first, remember?”

“So who has today?”

Daniel leaned back against the pillows, smiling. “Me.”

“Cheater. Now Daniel, you’re to stay off that leg for at least two days. I mean it,” Janet scolded sternly, but then she gave him a fond pat, glanced with vast understanding at the Colonel, and pulled the privacy curtains around the bed before she left.

“Why is everyone acting so… weird?” Daniel wondered. “It’s not as if I died again, or anything. It wasn’t even close to being life-threatening this time. Well, okay, it was a *little* closer than I like, but… I really am okay, you know.”

“I know.”

“You do?” Daniel asked, skeptical. “Not worried about my emotional stability?”

“You seem to be handling it okay. I get the impression whatever went on in that Temple shook loose some of that baggage you’ve been carrying.”

Daniel nodded reflectively. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

“Good thing you got back,” Jack said.

“Yes, I’m kind of glad, myself.”

“*Because*,” Jack went on, giving Daniel a warning look, “there’s a lot of unfinished business we have to cover.”

“Um… such as?”

“Well, there’s those books we have to read, for one thing. You’re blushing again, Danny. You have no idea how that turns me on. Most important, though… there’s something I should have said the other night, and I never got the chance. Now listen carefully, Daniel, because this is important. I love you too.”

Daniel smiled, his eyes suspiciously bright. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. You could have rushed in with SG3 and a swat team and the National Guard and the local fire department to get me out of that Temple – which really would have got me killed, by the way – but you didn’t. You trusted me to handle it on my own. And you have no idea how that turns *me* on.”

Jack grinned and leaned in for a long, hard kiss. 

Daniel’s hands stole around Jack’s neck and shoulders, caressing the only skin he could actually get to. Then, reluctantly, he planted his hands on Jack’s chest and pushed. Gasping for breath, he said, “Jack. Regulations.” 

“The hell with regulations. Some things are worth a court-martial,” Jack declared, about to dive in for more, not bothering to tell his lover that he had pulled the plug on the infirmary security cameras on his way in. 

But Daniel shook his head. “No. Regulations. It has to wait.”

“Not long it can’t. Your place or mine?”

“I have the manuals,” Daniel grinned, his eyes gleaming with An-tici-PA-tion.

“Yours then. Get your crutches and let’s get out of here.”

Å


End file.
